New Earth
by Laura Donaghey
Summary: As Peter Argent embarks upon his first TARDIS adventure with Rose and the newly-regenerated Doctor, they discover a hospital in the distant future where an order of cat-nuns appear able to cure all illnesses. But the Doctor is suspicious of their methods. He must uncover the truth and save Rose and Peter from the vengeance of his old enemy, the Lady Cassandra.
1. Chapter 1

February 1986 had been unseasonably cold and most nights in the past week hadn't peaked above freezing. When the full moon had arrived it shone in a cloudless sky of the brightest of stars.

The village of Milstead was no more than thirty miles from Maidstone and yet it offered its residents complete isolation and seclusion in the form of three separate woodlands, each of which formed with one another at their boundaries to form a singular dense patch of birch trees.

If not for the singular road leading up to Oak Church Cottage it would have been nearly impossible to reach it. Where as a century ago it had been a farmhouse surrounded by acres of fields, it was now the home of David and Elizabeth Johnson.

The day had been spent working - David at the local council office and Elizabeth as a nurse at Maidstone hospital - but now both were enjoying a cosy night in watching television.

Round Britain Whizz was halfway through its speeded up flight around the countries coastline and Terry Wogan was explaining all about the attractions of Northumberland's most rugged and sea battered coasts.

"Perhaps one of the most impressive sights is Bamburgh Castle." Said the familiar, soothing Irish voice of Wogan. "Build sometime in the late fifth century, it is..."

"Can you hear that?" Elizabeth suddenly asked, lifting her head up off her husband's shoulder.

"I can't hear anything." David replied.

Too busy paying attention to the attractions of Bamburgh Castle and the coastline it was built upon, he didn't notice when Elizabeth got up and wondered over to the window at the back of the lounge which overlooked the back garden and the wood beyond it.

"David, can you just turn that down for a second?"

With a sigh, and knowing his wife would only persist in her request, David muted the television and Wogan's commentary. Getting up off the sofa, he joined her at the window.

"What are you looking at?" He asked, peering out over Elizabeth's much shorter and plumper figure at the moonlit night. "It's far too dark to see anything at this time of night."

"I know that." She tutted. "But can't you hear it?"

David listened for perhaps ten seconds.

"No," he said. "But whatever it is, I'm sure..."

But whatever he was sure of, David didn't say because he could now hear it.

A whistling sound, perhaps akin to that of a boiling kettle, was steadily growing louder as whatever was causing it drew in closer.

Even if Wogan was unmuted and able to talk, he now wouldn't have been heard.

"It's coming from the sky." Elizabeth stated, peering up as far as her neck and the glass of the window would allow her to. "Whatever it is."

"Perhaps it's a plane?" David suggested. "Military or something, just flying really really low?"

Elizabeth rounded on her husband.

"Since when do planes of any sort make a sound like..." She paused, for a moment checking she was right. She was. "It's stopped." She whispered, her voice the only thing either of them could hear.

CRASH!

The shuddering impact of something either immensely big or fast - perhaps it was both - crashing somewhere in the surrounding woods may have rattled through to the very core of the house and its residents, but it was the sound which was the biggest shock of all.

"What the hell was that!?" David gasped as the lights continued to flicker and buzz in the wake of the mini earthquake that had just taken place. "What the bloody hell was that!?"

Deciding it couldn't withstand the tremor after all, the electricity failed, plunging them both into darkness.

"Whatever it was, it must have disrupted the mains." Elizabeth observed. "It can't be far away."

"Hang on, I'll get the torches."

In less than a minute, David had returned with the two large torches he kept in the top kitchen drawer in case of a power cut or, in this case, a unidentified crashing object. "There, that's better." He said as they turned them on and were at last able to see again to at least some degree.

"Yes," Elizabeth agreed. "Now, grab your coat and put on your boots."

"Wait, what?"

Following his wife with his torch beam, David watched with bemusement as Elizabeth walked into the kitchen, grabbed her heavy waterproof coat from off of the back of the door and slipped it on, along with her walking boots. "Liz, what are you doing?" He asked.

"What do you think I'm doing?" She replied as she tied up her laces and zipped up her coat. "Come on."

"We can't just go out looking for whatever that was!"

"Why not? I'll bet that it landed somewhere near where Kingsdown and Mintching woods meet, that's on our land."

"But it could be anything." David hissed. "What if it's dangerous?"

"Then, as the owners of the property it landed on, we have a duty to find out if it is or not." She replied with a shrug. "Don't we?"

Elizabeth had that look on her face that told David he really didn't have a choice in the matter. She was going with or without him, so he might as well accompany her.

"Fine," he huffed, putting on his own coat and boots. "But the second I think it's too risky, we walk down to the McGlen's and telephone the police. If they haven't already been called."

"So we better hurry then." Elizabeth said, her face completely straight. "Don't want the authorities to have all the fun, do we?"

* * *

><p>Knowing the surrounding woodlands like the back of their hands, it had taken less than five minutes for the Johnsons to walk the half a mile or so through the thin and currently leafless trees to where they had guessed whatever had crashed had landed, and quickly they saw that they had guessed correctly.<p>

Whatever they'd been expecting, however, didn't even come close to what they actually found.

The orange glow of the numerous mini fires that had broken out both within and outside of the two meter long crater was the first thing they'd spotted. Fuelled by the remains of the twenty or so trees that now lay in scattered, splinted sections across the forest floor, the fires were helping to illuminate what had caused the destruction.

It was a spaceship.

Not a very big one, granted, but it was a spaceship nevertheless.

White in colour, it was rounded in shape with a large singular red tinted window in the centre of what appeared to be a door. It was no bigger than the size of a small child. However, even a child might have struggled to fit inside.

Now it was Elizabeth's turn to be hesitant.

"What do you think's inside?" She whispered, as though frightened of disturbing the ship's occupant should it have one.

David didn't answer her.

For a moment he stood on the edge of the crater, his torch beam trained on the ball shaped craft. Then, with great care, he lowered himself down the bank of earth that made up the crater and slowly began walking down towards the ship.

Steam was pouring from it through its few visible vents. As a result the glass on the window had fogged over, preventing David from seeing what was inside. But even when he wiped the window with his sleeve, he found the glass itself was frosted. Still, it was enough to answer one of his burning questions.

"There's something moving in there." He called up to Elizabeth. "I don't know what though."

"Be careful." She called back, shining her torch his way so he could see what he was doing. "Take it slowly."

With a nod to reassure her he would, David turned his attention back to the ship and its curved door. He knew it was a door because there was a ridge on either side of the window.

"Now then," he muttered to himself. "How do I open you up?"

No sooner had he laid a finger on the doorframe, however, did he get his answer.

It was as though something in the ship's systems had detected it had landed safely and that it needed to be opened, because a large, metal door handle quickly produced itself, sliding out from a hidden compartment.

Tentatively David crouched down and took hold of it, and for a moment didn't dare to go any further.

Perhaps thirty seconds passed by in complete silence, only the crackling of the nearby fires and Elizabeth's increasingly heavy breathing disturbing it.

Drawing in a deep breath, David's grip on the handle tightened. "Oh, sod it."

Like a car boot lid, he swung open the spaceship's door, letting go as he felt it click into place above him on mechanical hinges. Still crouching on the ground, he was at last able to see what was inside the ship.

"David, what is it?" Elizabeth called, seeing her husband set down his torch and put his head and upper body into the ship. "Tell me, what's in there?"

The crying gave it away a moment before David's upper half emerged from out of the ship, a small bundle tucked securely in his arms.

"It's a baby." He said, looking as though he was about to start laughing. "A baby, Liz."

"An alien baby?" She asked, her eyes wide as she stood rooted to the spot she was stood in.

"Well, he looks normal enough."

"H-he, it's a boy?"

"I think so," David replied, now trying to sooth the still crying infant by gently rocking him. "Look, can you come down? You'll probably be much better with him than I will."

"Yeah, but he's not..." Elizabeth began. "I mean, surely he won't be anything like..."

"Like what, Liz? Human?" David asked, frowning. "He's a baby. One who clearly won't survive out here on his own."

"Yeah, but..."

But Elizabeth couldn't ignore the crying any longer.

In an instant she was down into the crater and at her husband's side, peering over the bundle of blankets. Inside, just visible, was a baby boy with a tuft of jet black hair, crying his heart out.

"Hey hey hey, it's all right. Shush now." David shushed, but it didn't work.

"Oh my god," Elizabeth whispered. "He can't be any older than three months. He looks starving."

"Probably been in that thing for goodness knows how long." David said, nodding in the direction of the ship. "Here, take him for a second."

"Wait, no. What..." But the baby was already in her arms in exchange for her torch, David taking it and returning to the ship for another look. "What are you doing?"

"Saw this in it before," he replied as he came back out of the ship again. "Thought it might be important."

In his hands this time was a small scroll, fastened with a royal blue coloured ribbon.

"Well open it then." Elizabeth insisted when he paused. "What? What are you staring at me for?"

"Look, he's stopped crying."

Looking down, Elizabeth saw that the baby had indeed stopped his sobbing in favour of staring back up at her. For the first time she could see his eyes. They were very bright, brighter than she'd ever seen before, and quite bold in their grey colour. Elizabeth also got the distinct impression that she was being studied, and not in the normal curious baby way either.

Something about the steadfast gaze of this infant definitely wasn't human.

"Well," she eventually said, looking back up at David. "Clearly he knows who's in charge around here."

It was as she'd been waving her hand casually to further her point that the baby had taken hold of it, well her thumb at least - his hands weren't quite big enough to grab her whole hand yet.

"Yes, I'm sure that's the reason." David replied, grinning at the sight of the baby, who was now quietly suckling on Elizabeth's thumb.

"Or perhaps he's waiting for you to open up that scroll of his."

Something fell to the floor with a small thud as soon as David unwrapped the small piece of paper and he had to shine his torch around for a minute before he found it again.

"It's a ring." He said, holding it up so Elizabeth could see it. "Silver I think, with some sort of blue stone imbedded into it."

"Looks very big for a baby to wear." She observed.

"They must have intended it to be worn when he's older."

"Well, whoever they are, they still put a baby into a spaceship and nearly let him starve."

"You're getting protective over him all of a sudden?" David enquired, folding his arms and raising an eyebrow.

Changing the subject, Elizabeth cleared her throat.

"What's on the scroll?"

As his gaze shifted downwards to the aforementioned scroll, both of David's eyebrows rose in surprise.

"It's his name."

"How do you know that?" His wife asked, frowning. "Since when can you read alien?"

"Since they started writing in English."

As David held up the scroll for her to read and shone his torch on it, Elizabeth saw that a name had been scribbled on the piece of parchment paper. Perhaps the translation of the name was the same wherever this baby had come from, as it was indeed written in perfect English.

"Peter Alexander Argent." Elizabeth read aloud before looking back down at the infant in her arms. "Well, at least we know what to call you now, Peter."

In the distance, approaching sirens could be heard. The police no doubt were responding to the McGlen's or another neighbour's report of hearing or feeling Peter's ship landing.

"We have to get back to to the house." David said, scooping up the other torch that he'd left beside the ship. "We'll take Peter back with us and then -"

"And then what?" Elizabeth asked. "Explain how we suddenly have a baby and a spaceship on our land?"

"Then we make sure they won't find either of them, for tonight at least."

One by one, David smothered each of the fires with the churned up earth, hiding the ship from sight a little better. "They don't know the woods like we do, it'll be tomorrow afternoon by the time they start searching them properly. I can get this thing loaded up in my trailer and in the shed by then."

"And Peter? What are we going to do about him?"

"You're the one holding him," David shrugged, and then smiled. "It's up to you. But I could get a legal adoption order from work, we could say he was just left on our doorstep. Then we could -"

"Raise him?" Elizabeth finished. "David, sparing him from being found in a spaceship is one thing. But we can't just decide to adopt him."

"We can't have children of our own -" He began.

"You mean I can't." Elizabeth muttered bitterly.

"No, we can't." David corrected her. "Because I'm not having them with anyone else. Liz, this could be a sign. Maybe we were always meant to find Peter."

"Even if we considered adopting him - considered, mind you - we'd be on our own in raising him. You know that, right?" She asked. "He may be a normal looking baby now, but months or even years down the line he could suddenly change and become something completely different."

"I know." Her husband replied, suddenly looking serious. "But, do me a favour before you make up your mind. Look at him. Go on, look. Do you really want him to go to anyone else? Would it be the best thing for him to be given to anyone else?"

Elizabeth looked down at the baby in her arms.

Peter had fallen asleep, sucking his own thumb now but keeping a tight grip on her's. He'd quickly forgotten his spectacular and fairly destructive arrival and now seemed content with his situation.

In doing so, he'd made Elizabeth's decision for her.

"Well, I don't know what you are or where you come from, Peter." She whispered to him gently. "But it looks like your going to be stuck with us for a while."

The sirens were growing louder now.

"Liz, we should go." David urged as he stepped up and out of the crater, turning back and holding his hand down towards his wife.

Ensuring first that Peter was secure in the crook of her arm, Elizabeth used the other to take David's hand, allowing both to be pulled up and out safely.

With a last glance at the spaceship they knew they'd have to hide, perhaps for the rest of their lives, and an alien baby who they had just decided to adopt nestled safely in Elizabeth's arms, the Johnsons turned back for home, knowing full well that their lives would never be the same again.


	2. Chapter 2

The metal floor clicked underfoot as the Doctor walked into the TARDIS.

Throwing his new coat over one of the supporting coral struts that circled the room, he approached the console and pulled down one of the levers. The ship instantly responded, a soft green glow illuminating the controls.

Twisting one of the dials - it looked like a transparent glass paperweight with bubbles fused into it - the Doctor flicked a series of switches and inputted the various instructions the TARDIS needed to fly through the time vortex. Finally, he pulled down the final lever with an elaborate flick of his wrist.

The central column whirred into life, the mechanics inside rhythmically rising and falling, which cast the TARDIS in the same green light currently pulsing through its controls.

Feeling the beating heart of his ship course through him, the Doctor smiled.

All the while, outside of his magnificent time machine, Jackie and Mickey were with Rose, bidding her goodbye.

The large, rectangular plot of concrete they were currently gathered on had been designed, and for a time had served, as a multifunctional all weather pitch. Now, however, it was cracked and defaced with graffiti and was only used as a place for the gangs of youths off of the estate to drink their cans of cheap lager from the off-licence down the road.

It was a bright but very cold late December morning and no one was out apart from the three of them. Rose shifted her heavy looking rucksack further onto her shoulders as she stood speaking to her mother.

"Have you got everything?" Asked Jackie, as though her daughter was going off on an overnight school trip.

"I've got everything, don't worry." Rose replied, resisting the urge to roll her eyes.

She wanted things as pleasant as possible. It was trying enough when a visit home involved constant reassurance to her mother that it wouldn't be the last visit. Rose didn't want to set off an argument, not when she was already sad to be saying goodbye.

Jackie still looked as though she hadn't got all of the fussing out of her system, but she relented.

"Oh, all right, just be careful." She begged with concern for her only child as she pulled Rose into a tight hug.

"I will be, Mum." Rose assured.

The TARDIS' engines had started up, that wheezing and groaning sound that sent a tingle of excitement through Rose every time she heard it. The ship was telling her that both it and the Doctor were ready and eager to take off. "Okay, I'm going now. I love you!"

Jackie replied the same, releasing her daughter with some reluctance.

Turning to Mickey, Rose could see that he wasn't looking very happy. He would miss and worry about her until the moment she returned.

"Love you." He replied, sounding as though he was holding back a tear or two.

"Bye." She replied, giving him a hug and a peck on the lips before waving goodbye and then happily running over to the TARDIS to join the Doctor.

Virtually bursting into the time machine, Rose ran up the ramp to the console. Reaching the top she placed down her rucksack and looked at the Doctor who smiled warmly at her. It was quite infectious and she found herself doing the same.

She had been worried that this would feel too weird or wrong to be traveling in the TARDIS with a different looking man. But fortunately, those feelings had faded. Now, she was seeing that she was just very excited to get out among the stars again.

"All set?" The Doctor asked her.

"Ready to go." She replied.

The Doctor beamed at her as he pulled a lever and sent the TARDIS into its takeoff sequence.

The exterior of the ship began dematerialising not long afterwards, fading gradually from the sight of Jackie and Mickey, until it had disappeared entirely.

Jackie was quick in turning away and was soon walking back towards her flat. Mickey, however, stayed a moment longer, gazing sadly at the piece of concrete the TARDIS had occupied up until a moment ago.

Eventually, with the cold air biting at his skin even through his thick jumper, he gave up on the notion of a sudden swift return on Rose's part and followed in Jackie's footsteps back towards the estate.

* * *

><p>The three days since Christmas had passed all too quickly.<p>

But ironically, from the moment Peter had started to stare at the curved oak mantle clock that sat above the fireplace in his parents' front living room, the passage of time had decided to grind to a near complete halt.

Today was the day he was going to leave behind everything he'd ever known. His family and friends, even the very planet he'd called home for the past twenty one years. But, then again, Earth wasn't really his planet.

Peter Alexander Argent hadn't been born on Earth and he certainly wasn't a human. Though he looked, sounded, and behaved like one - enough to fool all but a select few into believing this was the case - he was in fact a full blooded wolf. He was a Saiyan from the planet Vegeta, whom had the ability to transform into the creature he shared his blood with.

He wasn't, however, something out of the world of fiction. There was no unwilling transformation on a full moon into a hairy lupine monster, but nor was he limited to sticking to one form or the other. There was a crossover point he'd instinctually learnt how to reach.

He was the wolf and the wolf was him. They were one and the same.

But, given his resemblance and kinship to the creatures of the moonlight at the heart of countless legends, literature, films and television shows, Peter had taken every precaution not to reveal his true inheritance. Humans, he'd found, entertained the idea of the supernatural and alien only if it was within their control - ergo by keeping it as far from reality as possible in the form of fictional entertainment.

There were just four exceptions to that rule, and one of them had just come into the living room with a cup of coffee for him.

Elizabeth Johnson may not have been Peter's biological mother, but she was the closest thing he had to knowing one.

Only reaching five foot three, she was a short, plump, kindly-looking woman with chocolate brown hair and a warm matching shade to her eyes. Before she'd retired a little under eighteen months ago she'd been a nurse and, as a result, and like her son's friend Emma, it was in Elizabeth's nature to be patient and caring. She also wouldn't stand for any nonsense.

Wolf or not, a UNIT lieutenant or not, the few times Peter had tested her limits a little too much, he'd been shocked at how easily she could resemble a sabre-tooth tiger and how quickly he could be put in his place.

Right now, however, she was the warm, loving mother Peter had know all of his life.

"That's my fifth cup today." He told her as she set the coffee down on the table in front of him.

"Well, you have been up since six this morning." His mother replied with a smile, sitting down next to him on the sofa. "Didn't you arrange a time for him to come?"

"No, I suppose I should have." Peter said, before laughing. "Makes him sound like a taxi driver, doesn't it?"

They both knew the 'him' meant the Doctor. He was an alien who traveled through time and space in a spaceship that, from the outside at least, looked like a big blue wooden box.

Peter had met the Time Lord just three days previously when they'd both found themselves at the centre of an attempted alien conquest. The Sycorax and their colossal ship may have been destroyed in the end, but it would have been too late had it not been for the combined effort of the Doctor and Peter's employer, the Unified Intelligence Task Force.

Alongside it all, and despite Peter successfully concealing his wolf nature for years, it had taken less than an hour for the Doctor to successfully deduce exactly what Peter was and why he was on Earth.

"I suppose in a way he is." Elizabeth replied. "He's taking you where you want to go."

"Yeah," Peter said quietly.

His gaze shifted from the mantle clock to the three large holdall bags that were piled up together in the corner of the room. Inside them was everything he cared enough about not to leave behind. Essentials like clothes were mixed in with the irreplaceable photographs and mementos of the only life he'd ever known.

Sensing her son's doubt, Elizabeth rested a hand on his shoulder.

"Hey," she whispered soothingly. "It's going to be fine."

"But what if -"

"Peter, you've been having moments like this since you arrived, and do you know what they all have in common?"

Peter shrugged and shook his head.

"No, what?"

"They've not stopped you from changing your mind." She told him. "And I think that part of you decided, long ago, that going was always going to be the decision. You just needed the opportunity."

"It's not going that I'm worried about." Peter said, looking up at her. "I'm just scared about losing all that I've ever known."

"You, of all people, have a good instinct. It always has and always will guide you." Elizabeth said, indicating the room with a wave of her arm. "And, look around. You'll never lose the important things from your life here."

More than two decades had passed since Peter had arrived on Earth, but his parents' house had hardly changed at all. Only the photographs on the mantelpiece really showed how much time had passed. The snapshots of moments in time had captured Peter at every pivotal moment in his life. He could be seen as a baby in Elizabeth's arms, riding his first bicycle, his school photos ranging through all the years. They ran all the way up to him passing out of Sandhurst and onto the spring just gone when he'd been best man at his two best friends' wedding.

"No, I guess I won't." Peter said with a smile, taking a sip of his coffee and instantly regretting it. "Ew! There's no sugar in this."

"You don't need an energy boost at the moment young man. It's a full moon in a few days and you know what you get like." His mother chastised, standing up.

"I'd still like sugar in my coffee."

Elizabeth was about to rebuke him further but was cut off by the arrival of her husband.

"Oh, let the boy have his sugar Liz." David Johnson replied as he casually strolled into the room. "After all, who knows what Saiyans eat and drink when they're at home?"

In stark contrast to his wife, David was tall and thin, had fair hair which was now starting to bald, and bright, intelligent blue eyes that twinkled with a mischievous glint behind rounded glasses

"David!" His wife hissed.

"What? I'm just saying that they might not have sugar. It might be the last sugar Peter ever tastes, right son?" He replied, shooting a wink down towards Peter.

"Dad's right, mum." Peter agreed, trying not to laugh. "It might be my last chance."

"Oh," Elizabeth tutted, taking the cup from out of Peter's hands and marching out of the room, calling over her shoulder, "fine! But don't be complaining when he's bouncing off the walls come Thursday night."

"Yeah well I won't be here Thursday night, will I?" Peter muttered, not quietly enough to avoid being overheard by his father.

Even if he had of been, David had already seen the downcast look on his son's face.

"So, planet of the wolves, hey?" He said jokingly, standing before Peter with his hands tucked into his pockets and a goofy smile on his face.

"Really dad?" Peter sighed exasperatingly. "Three days and that's the best movie analogy you've come up with?"

"Well, I was going to suggest attack of the wolves. But you're not a cloned species, are you?"

The look Peter shot his father's way only lasted a moment before the pair burst into laugher. "No, course you're not." David said once he'd stopped laughing. "God help the universe if there's more than one of you running around."

"Hilarious as always, dad."

But David's humour made him the ideal father in Peter's opinion. Elizabeth could be too much of a mother sometimes. She would fuss and nag and be too overprotective, always quick to remind both her son and husband know that she didn't stop worrying about them.

But regardless, Peter felt as though he'd never be able to pay both of them back for all they'd done for him. He knew he'd always be able to rely on them, regardless of how many years passed or how far they lived apart from one another.

Their council and guidance had shaped Peter into the person he was today, no matter what species he was.

"You know you're making the right decision, don't you?" His father suddenly told him.

This surprised Peter. For three days now both of his parents had been impartial in his choice to leave Earth, only pointing out to him the pros and cons Peter already knew himself.

"You think so?" He asked. "Why?"

David shrugged.

"Because staying here, with what you know and all you've ever known, is the easy choice." He told him. "You're taking a leap of faith, you're taking charge of your own future. Just like you've always done."

"What about you and mum though? Your futures are just as important to me."

Looking his son right in the eye, a sad smile on his face, David drew in a deep breath.

"We've had twenty one years with you, Peter, twenty one wonderful years, and your mother and I couldn't be more proud of the man you've become. Finding you that night was the best thing that could have happened to us, no it was." He added when Peter looked ready to protest. "But somewhere out there is the life you are meant to live, and what kind of parent would I be if I didn't encourage you to go and find it?"

"Dad, I..." But Peter's ears had picked up on something. "Can you hear that?"

David didn't have the same hearing capabilities as his Saiyanial son, so shook his head.

"No, why?" He asked. "What..."

But the sound had grown louder now, a faint whooshing sound, marred with a mechanical grinding noise. It was coming from outside the house, somewhere at the front of the property on the single track road that led away from it.

The sound had drawn Elizabeth from out of the kitchen and back into the lounge. Standing with her husband and son, none of them had the time to question it further before two sets of legs could be heard racing down the stairs.

Stefan and Emma Amell were Peter's best friends and the only other humans in the whole wide world that he trusted with the knowledge of his alien origins. They'd grown up together and Peter looked at them more as a brother and sister rather than just friends. He and Stefan worked together as soldiers for UNIT, whilst Emma shared his mother's profession as a nurse.

The pair of them also had no immediate relations left to speak of, which was why they'd joined the Johnsons for the Christmas period and had been considered part of the family for many years.

Bursting into the room, they both had a fraught look of worry on their faces.

"It's the TARDIS." Stefan reported. "It's him, he's here."

Everyone knew what that meant. The Doctor was here. It was time for Peter to go.

Feeling the eyes of the room bearing down upon him, he shakily got to his feet. Only then, did he not know what to do with himself. Should he say goodbye now? Pick up his bags and take them out to the TARDIS? Invite the Doctor inside? How long would the Time Lord wait?

Fortunately, his father stepped in and made the decision for him.

"Come here," he said, wrapping his arms around him. "It'll be fine, you'll see."

"I hope it will be," Peter replied, holding onto his father with more grip than he normally would have used. "'Cause I'd be a fool in going otherwise. Leaving behind a father as good as you."

Over David's shoulder he turned his gaze to his mother and, for the first time, felt tears prick at the corners of his eyes. "Mum," he said, parting with his father and walking the short distance over to her.

Elizabeth looked ready to cry herself as she straightened his jacket collar for him, smoothing out creases only a mother seemed able to see.

"My beautiful...man." She whispered, correcting herself halfway, laying a hand gently on either of Peter's cheeks. "Be happy."

"You too, Mum."

Sharing the same, warm embrace he'd had with his father, Peter took longer to part with Elizabeth. Before he did entirely, he nuzzled his own head against hers. "No matter where I go, you'll always be my mother."

"And you'll always be in my heart." She replied, ignoring the few tears now snaking down her cheek.

Forcing himself to turn away, Peter approached Stefan and Emma. Drawing in a breath, he tried to regain some form of a façade on his emotions by putting on a smile.

Emma was already trying to hold back the tears, her face crumpled up with the effort. Stefan had his arm around her and was trying, like Peter, to keep a brave face on things.

"I'm really going to miss you guys," Peter told them, sniffing and trying to keep his voice from shaking. "I'll try and call, if I somehow manage to get a mobile signal. Or if Saiyans have perfected space travel, or..."

Stefan and Emma nodded understandingly. "Because, it's like we've always said. You guys might not be wolves, and I might not be human. But, w-whatever we do, wherever we go. We'll always be a pack."

Unable to hold it back any longer, the three friends embraced one another, whispering their goodbyes within the confines of their huddle.

"D-do you want me to walk you out, mate?" Stefan asked as they parted. "Help with the bags?"

Peter shook his head.

"No, I need to be able to walk out of here without having to look back. Otherwise I'll never go."

Stefan merely nodded.

Finally, Peter was able to bring himself to turn away from his loved ones and pick up his bags. Easily, he slung one onto his back and picked up the other two with one hand.

Even without the extra strength his wolf side gave him, Peter wouldn't have struggled with the weight of them. His job kept him in peak physical condition and there wasn't much to carry, certainly not as much as one would expect of a life over two decades in the making.

Wiping away a tear with his spare hand, he walked over to the door that led into the hallway where the front door was. Lingering there for a moment, he gave his family and friends one last glance.

Steeling himself for the moment he'd been dreading the most, Peter turned his back on them and walked out of the house.

The air outside was clear and crisp, fresh and icy. No snow had fallen but the birch trees surrounding Oak Church Cottage were covered in frost which glistened in the bright winter's sunlight.

Everything looked the same to Peter as it had been for every winter he'd ever known. The isolated stone-fronted, thatched cottage and its stone walled garden with the paved pathway leading down the middle to a small, creaky wooden gate. The silent woodland that was nearly impassible come the summer when there was foliage.

The large blue wooden police box, however, was new.

The TARDIS was parked just up the road, a short distance from the cottage and Peter's treasured Ford Mustang GT, it and its occupants waiting for him to approach.

Peter got as far as his car, pausing to give the vehicle an affectionate pat - it was the only possession he'd been forced to leave behind, unable physically to take it with him - when he sensed he wasn't alone. "I knew you'd be unable to resist ignoring me one last time." He said with a smile, looking back towards the house.

Stefan looked as though he'd just been caught in a game of Grandmother's Footsteps. Holding his hands up in mock surrender, he returned the smile as he closed the gap between them.

"What gave me away this time? Was it the door?" He asked.

"No." Peter replied.

"The front gate? It creaks, doesn't it?"

"No, not the gate."

"Ah, I was downwind of you." Stefan realised, snapping his fingers. "You could smell me coming."

"No," Peter told him again. "It wasn't any of those."

"Then what?" He asked, frowning.

"I just knew you'd come."

For a moment neither man said or did anything. It wasn't the time to laugh but both managed to exchange a small, amused smile with one another. "I'm glad you did, though." Peter continued. "Because I've got a late Christmas present for you."

From out of his jeans' back pocket he pulled out his car keys and tossed them over to Stefan.

"No, I can't," he gasped, catching them, his gaze shifting between the keys and the magnificent example of American muscle they belonged to. "Peter, this is your baby. It's your pride and joy. I can't take it."

"Yes you can, and I'm not taking no for an answer." Peter told him. "Besides, think of it as compensation."

"Compensation?"

"Yeah, for having to put up with Kensington as your commanding officer once UNIT realise I've gone." He said with a completely straight face.

Stefan laughed at this.

"Okay, yeah. I think this will just about cover it."

Peter smiled and began to turn away, back towards the TARDIS. Pausing, however, he added, "just don't short shift her too much, and try not to over kill it on the revs. She's -"

"A living thing that can feel pain. I know." Stefan finished, rolling his eyes. "I'll look after her. I promise."

"And look after yourself, and Emma, and my parents." Peter added, smiling. "Because as humans go, you're not the worst."

"And you aren't the worst wolf, I think. I don't know, I'd have to meet another one to decide." His friend joked back before dropping his smile. "But seriously, look after yourself. Go and find that family of yours. You deserve to know where you come from."

"You know, I never use to think people deserved anything." Peter said with a nod. "But I am owed this. I've waited long enough."

"Yes you have." Stefan agreed. "So go. Go and find it and take it back."

It was fighting talk and it had put a fire in Peter's belly to hear it, strong enough for him not to feel as sad as he had been feeling for leaving.

This time, as he turned and walked away, he didn't look back. Reaching the TARDIS, he took hold of its the metal handle firmly and didn't hesitate in pushing open the door and stepping inside.


	3. Chapter 3

"Whoa."

His thoughts still with those he'd just left behind, Peter didn't immediately take in the vast interior of the TARDIS as he stepped inside. When he did, he stopped in his tracks and felt his jaw drop. "This is... It's..."

Leaning casually against the console, the Doctor smiled.

"Welcome to the TARDIS." He said as by way of a greeting. "I'd tell you all the basics, but I'm going to guess you already know them?"

"That I do, Doctor." Peter said with a nod, setting down his bags as he continued to marvel at the intricate details of the room. "Though I have to say, I thought it'd be bigger."

The Doctor's face dropped.

"Bigger?" He gasped.

Rose was stood watching from the other side of the console and noticed the glint in Peter's eye.

"I think he's having you on." She said with a smile, coming around and giving the Time Lord a sympathetic pat on the shoulder.

"Oh," the Doctor realised, turning back to Peter. "Are you?"

"Course I am." He laughed. "This place is huge!"

"And this isn't all of it," Rose told him. "It's not just this room, you know."

"Oh I can believe that." Peter agreed, nodding. "So, given it's a time machine, how fast can it go?"

"Depends on where and when you want to go," the Doctor replied. "But not long. Why do you ask? In a rush to go somewhere?"

Peter shrugged and shifted uncomfortably.

"Well, how long does it take to get to Vegeta?"

That had been the whole reason for him coming. His home planet was waiting for him and it was expected that they'd travel there immediately. After all, for what other reason had the Doctor invited him onboard?

"Not long." The Time Lord replied evenly. "A few minutes. Five at the most."

Peter nodded, apparently satisfied with this answer. Hesitantly, as if expecting a reprimand for doing so, he ventured away from the doors of the TARDIS and over to the main control console.

Taking his time examining the various levers, buttons, and instruments he knew he'd never fully understand, he remained unaware that both the Doctor and Rose were watching his progress. He'd almost done a full circle of the controls by the time he did.

"What?" He asked, frowning at the pair.

"You're not at all fazed by any of it?" Rose asked, sounding surprised.

"Should I be?" He chuckled. "What's the normal reaction?"

"Rose here cried the first time she saw it." The Doctor replied, grinning at his companion.

"Doctor!" She hissed, smacking his arm.

"Ouch!" The Doctor whined, rubbing the struck area. "Well you did. But it was like I said, humans don't react well to this sort of a thing." He paused. "Well, most of them." He added, shooting a wink her way. "Now then!"

With a sudden burst of energy, the Doctor had jolted himself back into his most active setting. Leaping around the console, he pressed a dozen or so controls in a single fluid motion. The TARDIS was just as quick in processing the commands into action as the ship hummed into life. "Close down the gravitic anomalizer… Rose, fire up the helmic regulator. The red one."

Rose turned around and grabbed one of the many handles, turning it quickly. "And finally…" He paused for dramatic effect. "The hand brake." He stepped around, grabbing onto the lever that would send them off. "Ready?" He asked Peter.

"Bring it on." He replied, full of confidence.

"Vegeta? Home planet of the Saiyans, that's where you want to go?"

"Absolutely."

"Right now?"

"Right now."

Peter had come over to where the Doctor was stood, ready for departure but at the same time not knowing what that involved. His brilliantly bold grey eyes were shinning with excitement and didn't move away from the Time Lord once.

As a result, he didn't see the image on the scanner.

"Okay, take a last look." The Doctor told him, nodding down at the screen in front of them both.

Peter frowned and looked in the direction the Doctor was indicating.

The confidence he'd managed to build up in the last few minutes took a slight dive as he saw his parents' house on the small screen protruding out of the console. It was a last reminder of what he was leaving.

Rose had ventured over and had seen what both men were looking at. Even if the Doctor hadn't told her the quaint cottage's significance to Peter, she would have guessed purely on his reaction. The Saiyan's jaw had tensed and he looked sad, though he was trying his best to hide it.

"This the handbrake?" Peter asked, pointing to the lever the Doctor had hold of without taking his eyes of the screen.

The Doctor nodded and stepped away from it.

"Would you like to do the honours?"

Peter eyed the lever and then returned his gaze to the screen containing the image of the one place he'd ever called home. Only a moment of hesitancy passed before he slammed down the lever, propelling the TARDIS into its takeoff procedure.

When the normal juddering and shaking Rose and the Doctor were both use to - though Peter was not, and had been quite alarmed to discover - subsided, all three felt safe enough to let go of the console they'd been using for support.

The Doctor himself was looking rather pleased. "Now, there's just a few quick adjustments I need to make." He announced, pressing a few buttons on the console. "Rose, why don't you show Peter where he can store his bags?"

"Right," Rose replied brightly, then hesitated. "Remind me, past the wardrobe but not as far as the swimming pool?"

"That's it! Oh, and should you happen to find the swimming pool, don't get in it. I haven't gotten around to fixing the heating yet. Actually, if you find it, let me know where it is will you? I haven't seen it in weeks."

Rose nodded.

"Yep. C'mon Peter,"

Peter didn't move.

"Sorry, did you both just say swimming pool?"

"There's hundreds of rooms on this ship." Rose told him, traveling over to his bags with the intention of picking one of them up for him. Heavy and awkward to carry, she staggered as far as the console before her arms gave up on her. How was Peter able to carry three of them?

Very easily, it seemed.

Seeing Rose struggle, Peter had come over and relieved her of the bag she'd been trying to carry, also picking up the other two that had been left by the door.

"Just how strong are you?" She asked, puffing slightly from the effort.

Peter was still occupied with thoughts of the TARDIS' bizarre contents and didn't answer her.

"Why have a swimming pool?" He muttered.

"I knew a wolf once who ended up running her own psychic circus." The Doctor said, directing it more towards Rose and sounding reminiscent.

"Psychic circus," Peter whispered.

Rose smiled at him sympathetically and motioned for him to come.

"C'mon, before he talks your ears off. Back in a tick Doctor!"

"One tick... Two ticks..." He began.

"Shut up." She retorted playfully over her shoulder.

Once Peter had followed Rose out of the console room, the Doctor sat back onto the pilot seat, kicked up his shoes on the TARDIS' console, and let out a puff of air.

Was rushing home Vegeta really the best thing for Peter to do? Sure, he'd said he was ready, but was he? Leaving Earth had obviously been hard for him - anyone who'd seen his reaction to the scanner would know that - and it would be even harder to try and jump into a life as alien to him as the ship he'd just stepped into.

No, the young Saiyan wasn't as confident as he made out to be and he wasn't giving himself the time he needed to adjust to the colossal changes in his life he was now, and would soon be facing.

Perhaps, the Doctor thought, he was just a tad disappointed that he wouldn't have the time to get to know him better.

Peter's presence had brought an air of the unknown and unique. For starters, he wasn't a human - something which, sparing the Doctor of course, hadn't stepped aboard the TARDIS in a while. Secondly, Peter looked as though he was up for an adventure.

Yes, it would have been interesting to see how he'd have fared with a few travels in the TARDIS.

Then again, what could the Doctor do otherwise than to take him home? It was, after all, Peter's choice. He'd never asked or even shown an interest in traveling, and there wasn't any reason, other than his own, for the Doctor to take him anywhere else but Vegeta.

Or was there?

The Doctor had pulled out the psychic paper and had been absentmindedly flipping it open and closed, wondering when he'd be needing it next. It was then that, to his surprise, a message not out of his own mind appeared on the paper. Someone was sending him, personally, a psychic message - and a feat like that was worth looking into.

It appeared that his presence was required on New Earth, in a hospital ward 26 in New New York City. That could prove interesting and dangerous. He found hospitals to be very dangerous places, if you were on the table. But he, Rose, and Peter were fit as fiddles, so there was no danger of that.

He then felt guilty about wanting to look into a mystery when he should be focusing on returning Peter home.

"Oh, but Peter would love a good mystery, and it's a civilized planet." He justified to himself. "It's just a hospital, we'll visit real fast and then I'll take both him and Rose to dinner and show in the city afterwards! Ha!" He laughed as he set in the coordinates for the City of New New York.

* * *

><p>The TARDIS had materialised on the opposite side of the New Hudson river to the colossal metropolis that was New New York. Perched on the edge of a grassy hilltop, the view was unrivalled in its beauty. Overhead, flying cars zoomed through the sky in ribboned patterns, their occupants obviously all having important places to go that morning.<p>

Down on the ground, the Doctor had been the first to emerge out from the ship and took in a deep breath as he did. "Ah! Gotta love that New Atlantic breeze!"

"New Atlantic?" Rose questioned as she and Peter stepped out of the TARDIS, their feet sinking slightly into the grassy field it had landed in the middle of. It smelt odd, she noticed. Not unpleasant, but odd. "I thought we were going to Peter's home planet? Don't tell me their oceans have the same names as on Earth?"

The weather was overcast but still fairly bright. She and Peter spotted the Doctor, who was stood a short distance from the ship, staring out at a massive city. Hearing Rose behind him, the Doctor encouraged her and Peter to come to his side and slipped into tour guide mode - something which Rose always enjoyed.

"It's the year five billion and twenty three. We're in the galaxy M87, and this? This is New Earth." Said the Doctor, proudly.

Rose was floored at the information once it had finally processed. She took in the futuristic skyscrapers across the water from her, watched the hover cars zipping overhead, heading to and from the city, and was amazed.

"That's just. That's just…" She said, trying to find the right words.

Sensing Peter's frown before he spotted it out of the corner of his eye, the Doctor quickly turned in the direction of the Saiyan.

"I hope you don't mind a slight detour?" He asked quietly. "Got an urgent message for help which couldn't wait."

Peter wasn't frowning out of irritation, rather out of shock at the sight before him.

"Yeah," he replied, barely speaking above a whisper. "It's er, it's... I don't think that's an issue right now." He looked at the Doctor, his mouth agape. "The year five billion!?"

"And twenty three." The Doctor added, puffing with pride at Peter's reaction. "You all right?"

"I think so," Peter breathed, running a hand through his hair. "I mean it's just... I thought I'd be prepared for something, well, like this." He said, nodding in the direction of the city. "But five billion years into the future? I mean, that's just off the scale! People just don't fathom that far ahead."

"No they do not." The Doctor agreed, in a voice that was all confidence. "Yet here we are."

Rose felt no need to bring the Time Lord down a peg because this was truly amazing and she said as much.

"That's amazing. I'll never get used to this. Never." She crowed with delight as she jumped up and down in excitement. What fun they would have here? She didn't even know where they were to start. "Different ground beneath my feet, different sky."

"Five billion years," Peter said aloud again for the third time. "And yet, I can smell apples?"

There was no evidence at all of the fruit being there. No trees, no scattered remains of one perhaps eaten at a hilltop picnic. So why was he getting a whiff of them in the air?

The Doctor reached down to the green grass and pulled up a turf of some from the ground.

"Apple grass." He informed them.

Peter brought his nose in closer to check that it really was the grass that smelt of apples.

"Apple grass." He confirmed in an official sounding voice.

The Doctor just nodded his head in agreement. On the other side of him, Rose took hold of his free hand.

"It's beautiful." She told him "Oh, I love this. Can I just say, travelling with you, I love it."

The Doctor beamed at these words.

"Me too. Come on."

Giving Rose's hand an affectionate squeeze and placing a hand on Peter's back, he guided them onwards to their new adventure.

Before they left the hilltops covered with apple grass behind them, it had been suggested by the Doctor that they should pause awhile and he quickly spotted the perfect place for them to sit down. His large coat, once laid out on the grass, provided enough room for them all to sit comfortably.

"So," Peter began, gazing out at the city before him. Using his superior sense of smell, he was able to catch its scents in the wind. The city smelt clean and new, almost clinically so. "New Earth. Explain?"

"The year five billion, the sun expands, the Earth gets roasted." The Doctor quickly summarised.

"That was our first date." Smiled Rose.

"We had chips." The Doctor smirked back. "So anyway, planet gone, all rocks and dust, but the human race lives on, spread out across the stars. Soon as the Earth burns up, oh yeah, they get all nostalgic, big revival movement, but then find this place." He continued as he waved his hand, gesturing the planet. "Same size as the Earth, same air, same orbit. Lovely. Call goes out, the humans move in."

"What's the city called?" Rose asked. She had been staring at it long enough and wanted to know what such an amazing city was called.

"New New York." The Doctor replied matter-of-factly.

Peter snorted.

"Oh, come on." He scoffed. "I mean, the New Atlantic is one thing. But New New York?"

"That's what it's called." The Doctor insisted. "It's the city of New New York. Strictly speaking, it's the fifteenth New York since the original, so that makes it New New New New New New New New New New New New New New York. What?" He asked when he spotted the inquisitive looking grin on Rose's face.

"You're so different." She stated simply.

The Doctor for a moment was worried there was a problem with that, but then he realised that it was not meant as an insult, accusation, disappointment, or inquiry. It was just different.

"New New Doctor." He joked.

After a while, the continuous sight of the city made it too enticing to resist exploring it any longer.

"Can we go and visit New New York, so good they named it twice?" Rose asked as they all stood up, readying themselves to leave.

"Well, I thought we might go there first." The Doctor replied, brushing the apple grass off of his coat and slipping it back on before pointing to an elegantly curved skyscraper.

It stood apart from the city, right on the edge of the river. Like the rest of New New York, it was made of a white, sterile looking metal material. On the side of the building was a large and green crescent moon symbol.

"Why, what is it?" Peter asked as he scrunched his eyes to get a better look at the building. The high wind that was gusting across the hilltop was making it a little hard to see now.

"Some sort of hospital. Green moon on the side, that's the universal symbol for hospitals." The Doctor replied as he pulled out the battered leather wallet containing the psychic paper from his coat pocket. "I got this. A message on the psychic paper. Someone wants to see me." He added, a hint of obvious interest in his voice.

As the Doctor held it out for them to see, Rose saw the words 'Ward 26. Please Come' scribble across the paper, as though they were being written by an unseen hand using an equally unseen pen.

Peter blinked.

"Sorry, psychic paper?" He asked, pointing at the piece of paper that was still writing, erasing, and then rewriting the same four words over and over again.

The Doctor grinned as he pocketed it.

"How'd you think I get into places?"

Peter frowned and looked accusingly at the Time Lord.

"By 'places', do you mean all those highly restricted and sensitive areas UNIT has strived, for years I might add, to keep you out of?" He questioned, folding his arms.

The Doctor's grin was enough to confirm it.

"Hmm. And I thought we were just sightseeing." Rose said, breaking up the potential argument over UNIT's now defunct security.

She was a little annoyed that the real reason the Doctor had brought them here was to run an errand. But, at the same time, she was excited that they had a mystery too, and Rose wasn't one to leave a question unanswered. Who was this mysterious person who wanted to see the Doctor, and who had the means to send him a message so directly?

"Once we've finished though I've got a play and dinner all lined up." Assured the Doctor, sensing Rose's slight disappointment.

"Don't tell me?" Peter asked, his eyebrow raising up. "New Broadway?"

"That's the one!" The Doctor replied, blatantly oblivious to Peter's sarcastic tone, as he strode off and began making his way over towards the hospital.

Peter sighed exasperatingly.

"I was... It was a joke." He said, though only Rose heard him.

"Come on. Let's go and buy some grapes." She said good-naturedly, linking her arm through his. "If they still exist…"

"New grapes?" Peter joked.

"Don't you start." She berated playfully.

Following the Doctor, Rose and Peter soon left the grassy hilltops behind them. Little did the three of them know, however, that they had been watched from almost the second they had stepped out of the TARDIS.


	4. Chapter 4

Had either the Doctor or Rose spotted the small spider-like robot creeping around the tall grass just a short distance from where they'd been sat, they would have recognised it immediately.

Walking on four tentacular appendages, the little metal device had two saucer-shaped body parts. The topmost had a large red eye embedded into it, and it was this that it had used to spy upon the three time travellers. Every movement had been captured and every word spoken had been recorded. It had all been relayed to its controller.

Standing in a damp, dark corner of the basement he called home, the pail and hairless humanoid man gazed at the images coming through to his electronic crystal ball shaped screen.

Casting the room in a pale red glow, it illuminated the elaborate patterns etched into his skin that were poking out over his white hospital scrubs and cap.

Speaking with a gentle Irish brogue, he gasped upon seeing Rose's image.

"Human! She's pure-blood human!" He realised, and quickly relayed further orders to the robot spider recording her. "Closer, closer."

Once it had scurried to obey, getting within a few meters from the backs of Rose, the Doctor, and Peter, the room's other occupant also gasped.

"Impossible." Hissed the Lady Cassandra O'Brien Dot Delta Seventeen. "I recognise that child. Her face. Show me her face!"

"Closer, closer." The man ordered the spider.

"Face! Face! Face!" Cassandra insisted, almost obsessively so.

The only visible sign of the anger she could physically manage upon seeing Rose's face was a slight curl of her lip and a dangerous glint in her eye.

The Lady Cassandra was, after all, only a large piece of skin that had been stretched across a metal frame, with a pair of eyes and lips the only visible human features left. She did, however, keep her brain in a tank at the foot of the frame.

A brain that was now fuelled with long built up resentment. "Rose Tyler! I knew it. That dirty blonde assassin." She growled.

"She's coming here, mistress." Her aid confirmed, leaving the crystal ball shaped screen and scuttling over to her.

"This is beyond coincidence." Cassandra said gleefully, her brain in a tank already plotting and scheming. "This is destiny. At last I can be revenged!"

* * *

><p>Though initially eager, the closer the Doctor had got to the hospital the more reluctant he had become to enter it. By the time they had reached the giant glass doors, his confidence had disappeared all together.<p>

"I hate hospitals." He grumbled as they stepped inside.

"Yet you're called the Doctor?" Peter pointed out, the irony not at all lost on him. "Don't you think that's a bit rich, coming from you?"

"I can't help it. I don't like hospitals. They give me the creeps." He whined, frowning when Rose giggled.

"It's just a hospital, isn't it?" She asked, a little nervous, but more amused by the Doctor's nervousness.

"It is, but they still give me the creeps. You try waking up in a morgue drawer and see how you feel about them then." The Doctor replied indignantly.

But Rose and Peter had become too distracted by the sights and sounds of the hospital foyer to listen.

"The Pleasure Gardens will now take visitors carrying green or blue identification cards for the next fifteen minutes." A soothing automated female voice announced over a tannoy. "Visitors are reminded that cuttings from the gardens are not permitted."

The foyer itself reflected the sound of the announcement ringing out across it.

A huge open area, it was minimalistic design at its best. Everything was white, save for the green moon symbol that was placed strategically throughout the building. It was spotless and quite easily maintained a quiet and reflective atmosphere.

"Very smart. Not exactly NHS." Rose commented as they walked past the front desk and into a nice sitting area.

Joining the ordinary looking humans - whether they be visitors or patients - were other humanoid figures, all of them dressed in identical white robes and oddly shaped hats.

Rose presumed they were the staff of the hospital, but she couldn't be sure. Veils hung down from the hats, hiding their faces from her.

The Doctor was still slightly annoyed that his companions had chosen to ignore his horrifying tale of his last hospital visit, but quickly became distracted when he noticed that something was missing from the hospital. Something that was very important to him.

"No shop. I like the little shop." He announced, sounding genuinely disappointed.

"This far in the future, you'd have though they would have cured everything." Noted Peter, as he spun around slowly, looking up at the ceiling.

"The human race moves on, but so do the viruses. It's an ongoing war." The Doctor explained nonchalantly

Peter finished his circle and then caught a glance at what appeared to be a woman walking past him, wearing the same white outfit he had seen some of the other people around the hospital wearing. Only this time they did not have their face covered.

He realised all at once that the face of the woman, in her nun-like wimple and habit, was that of a cat's.

Peter stared, dumbfounded, as the woman walked past, giving a slight nod in his direction as she made eye contact with him. He couldn't help but follow her with his eyes as she walked away. Finding his voice, and still pointing rudely, he looked to the Doctor for an explanation.

"They're cats."

The Doctor, for once, knew he wasn't being the rude one in the room.

"Now, don't stare." He chastised.

"Cats on two legs, who appear to be nuns." Peter retaliated. "You are seeing them, aren't you?"

"And you're a wolf. Think what you look like to them, in either form."

Peter had never thought about it that way before. He'd never looked any different from humans - not unless he'd wanted to - and he'd lived off of that coincidence all of his life. How weird must he look to a cat by not currently having whiskers or fur? Maybe that was why cats always stared so much.

"Well, at least I walk on the right amount of legs when I turn." He eventually retorted.

"Just don't be starting some canine war with the felines, okay?"

"Right," Peter muttered, not properly listening as he continued to stare at all the veiled members of staff he now knew all to be cats. It took him a moment to clock onto the insult, his head whizzing round when he did. "Hey!"

But the Doctor had already become bored of the conversation and pointed off to a little office that was tucked away in the corner of the foyer.

"That's where I'd put the shop. Right there." He said, before wondering off towards a pair of nearby lifts.

Peter was hot on his heels, not yet done with the subject of the cat nuns.

"I'm not biologically programmed to hate them, you know." He called after the Time Lord.

"Well, do you like them?" The Doctor asked as they stepped into the lift. "Ward twenty-six, thanks!" He called out aloud for the benefit of the lift's automated system.

"No, they're vile and nasty, and you can't tell from that creepy looking stare what's being plotted in that pea-sized head of theirs." Peter said all at once. He quickly realised by the Doctor's smirk that his own words had just lost him the argument. "Fine," he sighed. "I won't start a war with them."

"Good," the Doctor replied, nodding.

"Though if they start it, I'll finish it."

Catching Peter's grin, the Doctor knew his companion wasn't being serious. At least that was what he hoped. Never mind knowing the workings of a cat's brain, Peter's seemed wired to automatically hide anything he didn't want his voice and face to reveal.

The Saiyan was, however, genuinely concerned a moment later. "Where's Rose?" He asked.

They'd been too distracted with their debate over canines and felines relations to notice that Rose hadn't followed them over to the lifts. She had lingered awhile longer, still marvelling at the hospital.

It was only when the lift doors began to shut did she notice that she'd been left behind.

"Hold on! Hold on!" She called racing over to them.

It had come a moment too late and the doors shut in her, separating the trio as the Doctor and Peter began traveling upwards in the lift.

"Oh, too late. We're going up." The Doctor shouted apologetically through the door.

"It's all right, there's another lift." Rose shouted back as she pressed the call button for the adjacent lift. She would just have to race them to the right floor. But, at this point, there was no chance of her winning.

"Ward twenty-six." The Doctor reminded her, and then remembered something that he had forgotten to tell Rose. "And watch out for the disinfectant."

"Watch out for the what?" Rose asked, her voice barely audible now.

"The disinfectant!" The Doctor called again, having to shout in order to make himself heard.

"The what!?"

"The disin... Oh, you'll find out." The Doctor grumbled, giving up. They were just too far up the lift shaft for Rose to hear him. She would just have to find out what it was on her own.

Still not clear himself on what it was, Peter looked to the Doctor.

"What is the disinfectant?" He asked.

The Doctor's grin did nothing to ease his growing sense of dread.

Rose, no longer being able to hear the Doctor and realising that the lift was moving further and further away from her, resigned herself to enter the neighboring lift.

She walked in a bit nervously, it looked like a regular lift enough, a bit fancy but recognisable. Were lifts the same this far into the future? Not seeing any buttons to push, Rose decided to do as the Doctor had done.

"Um, Ward 26, thanks." She said aloud, a little unsure.

To her surprise the lift moved and she felt herself begin to travel downwards.

* * *

><p>Peter heard it before it happened.<p>

Human ears wouldn't have detected it, but the gurgling and bubbling sound was unmistakably that of a pipeline pumping some form of liquid through its system. A system that sounded like it was built into the walls of the lift.

Frowning, Peter tracked it with his eyes and followed it up to the roof.

"Commence stage one disinfection." Announced the soothing voice of the hospital's tannoy, as the two small green sirens in the corners of the lift began flashing and blaring.

Turning his head towards the back of the lift, Peter's brow creased even more.

"What the -" He began.

The lukewarm liquid that came pouring out of concealed nozzles in the roof drenched him within seconds, seeping in between his neck and shirt collar and running straight down his back. "Gah! Oh my god!" He exclaimed, pulling his jacket over his head in an attempt to keep himself as dry as possible.

"Ah, lovely."

From under his jacket, Peter glanced in the direction of the Doctor.

The Time Lord was treating the downpour like it was a nice, warm shower, as he rubbed his head thoroughly in order to ensure that every fibre of his volumed hair was being properly washed in the liquid.

"Don't tell me you're actually enjoying this?" Peter asked him, having to shout over the noise of the streaming liquid.

The Doctor's grin merely widened as he continued to bathe in the disinfectant solution.

A few more seconds and the liquid ceased in drenching them, the excess pool on the floor draining away through vents in the sides of the lift. It was only then did Peter feel safe enough to venture out from under his jacket.

He immediately wished he hadn't when the cloud of talcum-like powder shot out. Amazingly, it did not stick to his dripping wet clothing. Blinking his eyes in confusion, Peter then realised he was being blow dried clean as warm air began circulating the lift. Whatever the solution was he had been bathed in, it was drying very quickly.

Copying the Doctor - who was holding out the flaps of his coat so that it and his suit would dry off faster - Peter felt that he was finally getting the hang of the disinfectant as he attempted to straighten himself out as best he could in one of the mirrors.

Then, as quickly as it had started, it was over. There was a polite 'ding' as the lift arrived at Ward 26. A split second later, the doors slid open.

Another clean hospital floor greeted them, but this time it was sectioned off into areas filled with groupings of beds.

"Straight forward enough," the Doctor said merrily as they stepped out onto the ward. "Rose will have no trouble finding us."

"If she's not drowned in the disinfectant." Peter muttered, hesitantly sniffing his own hand. The new scent of the solution was lingering and it wasn't pleasant. It smelt metallic and clinical, like a cheap brand of mouthwash. Making him sneeze, Peter immediately withdrew his nose and grimaced. "Is it weird that I smell worse now than I did when I entered the lift?"

"It's called being clean." The Doctor joked, ruffling his hair out of the neat style the lift it had dried it into.

"No, there's clean and there's being sterilised." Peter retorted, trying not to breath in the lingering stench of the spray.

The Doctor smiled as they walked past the other lift and off into the ward to find the mysterious person who had contacted him.

Rose probably wasn't done disinfecting yet and, if she was going to give it the same reception as Peter, it was probably best to give her a few minutes to calm down. Cowardly though it was, the Doctor knew Rose could almost be as scary as her mother when she was genuinely angry.


	5. Chapter 5

Rose was relieved to step out of the lift.

It had been a nasty surprise when the sudden downpour the Doctor had been trying to warn her about had drenched her. The puff of drying power that had followed hadn't been much better. Only the gentle blast of warm air afterwards had been welcomed. Now, clean and dry, she stepped out onto what she expected would be another white and pristine hospital floor.

It wasn't. The corridor was narrow, dark and forbidding.

Dusty and disused machines once used by the hospital stood abandoned amongst various scraps of building materials and strewn litter. Above her, the dim, hanging lights hummed and flickered, looking and sounding as though they were on their last legs. Below Rose's feet, the bare concrete was damp from the water droplets constantly dripping down from the maze of cooling pipes that were attached to the ceiling.

"The human child is clean."

The softly spoken voice cut through the air with surprising volume and nearly gave Rose a heart attack. Turning, she saw a man stood at the end of the corridor.

He was very pale and dressed in stark white hospital scrubs and a cap. Hunched over, he was looking at her in a manner mixed between that of a small child and of a hungry animal.

From this first impression and the state of the corridor she was standing in, Rose knew something wasn't right.

The Doctor had told her they were visiting a ward. Where had the cat nuns and the wide open spaces of the hospital's foyer gone? Maybe, just maybe, the patient who had send the message was residing in this dank corner of the building, being treated by this strange little man.

Hoping this was the case, Rose cleared her throat.

"Er, I'm looking for Ward 26?"

"This way, Rose Tyler." The man replied, before trotting off down the corridor.

Rose had no doubt about it now, there was something very wrong going on here. How could the man know her by name?

Of course, the Doctor or Peter could have told him, but, if they had, where were they? Rose didn't know, but she was really hoping that they would make an appearance sooner rather than later. Until then, she was on her own.

The man was had stopped not much further along the corridor and was stood, waiting for her to follow him.

Out of the corner of her eye, Rose spotted a slender metal bar lying on the ground amongst the junk and the rubbish. Slowly, carefully, she picked it up and held it loosely in her hand. It was only then did she feel protected enough to step away from the lifts and towards the direction the man wanted her to go in.

Not trusting him enough even to blink, she allowed herself to be led away.

* * *

><p>The floor she'd stepped onto was much more substantial in size than Rose had first imagined.<p>

Like a maze, it was filled with narrow, twisting and winding passageways that didn't seem to lead anywhere. Yet the man guiding her seemed to know exactly where he was going. Scuttling ahead like a small animal, he would only move ahead so far before stopping and looking back to see if Rose was still following him.

Guessing they'd been walking for about ten minutes, Rose sensed they were nearing the end when they came onto a corridor with a singular, thin doorway at the opposite end. Hanging from the frame, grubby, heavy plastic flaps made it difficult to see beyond it.

Watching the man vanish through the doorway, Rose for a moment hesitated and found herself tightening her grip on the metal bar she'd picked up, unable to shake the feeling that something bad was waiting for her on the other side of the flaps.

When she did step through them, she was surprised to hear music.

Strange as it was, it sounded as though a party was going on. The clinking on glasses and laughter could be heard amongst the sophisticated tunes of a classical band.

It was a film reel projector.

The movie playing on it explained the noises she'd heard, as faded images of a long ago soirée shone onto the painted white brick wall directly in front of the lens.

Rose also noticed that whomever had been filming that night had decided to focus on one particular woman.

It was difficult to decide what age she was - it could have been anywhere from early thirties to late sixties - but she was very beautiful. Soft blond locks hung in elegant curls down her slender back whilst there wasn't a thread of her glittering silver gown that didn't sit right on her perfectly curved figure.

Easily it seemed, she had attracted the handsomest men of the party and was stood surrounded at least half a dozen of them, the centre of attention as she chatted amongst them.

"I mean, you never know what your life is going to be like, ever." She laughed, the men immediately laughing too. "I'm bored with this drink." Without even looking towards the cameraman capturing her beauty on film, she handed him her drink as she moved onto another of her acquaintances, who looked to also be another keen admirer. "Oh, hello darling! Now, don't. Stop it." The woman giggled as he whispered something into her ear.

It was her laugh that had finally confirmed Rose's suspicions. From the moment she'd stepped out of the lift she'd sensed something was wrong. Now she knew why.

"Wait a minute, that's..." She began.

She knew this woman. She'd been in another form back then, but it didn't make her any less dangerous.

Suddenly, Rose sensed she wasn't alone.

"Peekaboo!" Cassandra called condescendingly from the back of the room when her old foe finally turned around and saw her.

Startled to see the self titled 'last human' to say the least, Rose felt herself fill up with fear and anger. Instinctually, she lifted the metal bar she was carrying up and threateningly pointed it at Cassandra.

"Don't you come anywhere near me, Cassandra." She hissed, taking a few steps back.

"Why? What do you think I'm going to do? Flap you to death?" Cassandra countered, her tone sarcastic.

For a moment, Rose agreed with her. After all, what could Cassandra do in her present form? Besides hissing, scheming, and glaring, it was all the mouthy piece of skin could do.

The hunched over little man lurking behind Cassandra, however, was a different story.

"Yeah, but what about Gollum?" Rose asked, brandishing the metal bar in his direction.

"Oh, that's just Chip." Cassandra explained, unconcerned. "He's my pet."

"I worship the mistress." Chip chimed in.

"Moisturise me, moisturise me." Cassandra whispered to him. Chip happily obliged and quickly produced a spray bottle, using it to remoisten his beloved mistress. "He's not even a proper life form." Cassandra continued to explain. "He's a force grown clone. I modelled him on my favourite pattern. But he's so faithful. Chip sees to my physical needs."

"I hope that means food." Rose muttered, smirking. Then she grew serious. "How comes you're still alive?"

"After you murdered me." Cassandra spat.

"That was your own fault."

"The brain of my mistress survived." Chip cut in, once again eager to defend and praise Cassandra. "And her pretty blue eyes were salvaged from the bin."

"What about the skin?" Rose questioned, almost laughing at the impossibility. "I saw it. You, you got ripped apart."

"That piece of skin was taken from the front of my body." Cassandra told her. "This piece is from the back."

This only widened Rose's smirk. If flattened humans could look embarrassed, they'd be looking a lot like Cassandra was right now.

"Right!" She laughed. "So you're talking out of your a-"

"Ask not!" Cassandra interrupted quickly.

"The mistress was lucky to survive. Chip secreted m'lady into the hospital." Chip explained.

"So they don't know you're here?" Rose asked

"Chip steals medicine. Helps m'lady." Chip continued as he approached his mistress and began to stroke the flap of skin that was her physical existence. "Soothes her, strokes her."

Rose grimaced at the sight and had no desire to find out any further details of his duties.

"You can stop right there, Chip."

"But I'm so alone, hidden down here." Cassandra began to moan. "The last human in existence."

Rose rolled her eyes and sighed.

"Don't start that again." She told her. "They've called this planet New Earth."

"A vegetable patch."

"And there's millions of Humans out there." Rose continued. "Millions of them."

"Mutant stock." Cassandra insisted.

"They evolved, Cassandra. They just evolved, like they should. You stayed still." Rose said, eyeing her foe up and down. "You got yourself all pickled and preserved, and what good did it do you?"

But Cassandra was no longer paying her any attention. Instead, she was staring nostalgically at the film of the party that was still being projected onto the wall, lost in the memories of happier times.

"Oh, I remember that night." She sighed. "Drinks for the Ambassador of Thrace. That was the last time anyone told me I was beautiful. After that it all became such hard work." She went on to admit, grumbling the last part.

Rose merely rolled her eyes again at the flap of skin and crossed her arms defensively.

"Well, you've got a knack for survival, I'll give you that." She admitted grudgingly. Simultaneously, however, she was looking for an opportunity to leave, to get back to the Doctor and warn him and Peter about who she'd found down here.

"But I've not been idle, Rose, tucked away underneath this hospital. I've been listening. The Sisters are hiding something." Cassandra warned.

That caught Rose's attention, and she paused in her attempt back away towards the exit.

"What do you mean?" She asked.

"Oh these cats have secrets." Cassandra replied quietly. "Hush, let me whisper. Come close."

Rose wasn't going to be stupid enough to do that. She was tantalisingly close to her way out and she was going to take it.

"You must be joking if you think I'm coming anywhere near you!" She replied, at first with a laugh and then with a hiss.

It was as she reached the doorway that she knew she'd been tricked.

Thin black strips of machinery had been hung on the sides of the brick archway that concealed the exit partially from sight. Rose hadn't noticed them when she'd walking in and, in turn, they hadn't done anything to attract attention to themselves.

Now, from the moment she drew level with them, they burst into life as they send out two small blasts of pale yellow energy that were somehow able to hold Rose's arms out to the side of her, as though they were attracting magnets.

"Chip, activate the psychograft." Cassandra swiftly ordered.

Chip sprang into action, running over to a small lever that had been built into the wall and pulling it down without hesitation.

"I can't move." Rose gasped as blue light streamed down from a contraption hanging from the roof and enveloped her. "Cassandra, let me go! What're you doing?"

For the first time, she was scared. Rose knew that the piece of skin now holding her captive was capable of killing. Was she going to be Cassandra's next victim? Was this going to be her revenge? It was certainly looking that way.

Cassandra only cared about her own survival, not the survival of other members of her species,

"The lady's moving on." Cassandra announced. "It's goodbye trampoline, and hello blondie."

The last thing Rose saw was Cassandra disappearing into a burst of bright pink energy, energy that then came speeding towards her.

She felt a warm gush hit her, and then everything went black.

* * *

><p>The Doctor had decided there wasn't much point in him and Peter waiting around for Rose to find her way up to Ward 26, not when someone was desperate enough to see him so much so that their plea had reached the psychic paper.<p>

One of the veiled cat nurses - who'd introduced herself as Sister Jatt - had been quick to spot that they were looking for someone, and had politely offered to assist them. It was impossible to guess whether or not she had looked surprised when the Doctor had revealed he didn't know who it was they were here to see, her veil hiding her feline face.

Nevertheless, she remained professional and patient as she guided the two men through each of the wings that made up the ward.

"Nice place." The Doctor commented as they stepped onto their seventh wing. "No shop downstairs. I'd have a shop. Not a big one. Just a shop, so people can shop."

Removing her veil, Sister Jatt stared at him with a mixture of perplexity and bemusement.

She was older than the other cats Peter had seen, with a certain look of sternness about her that you only got with seniority. It reminded him of a mean drill sergeant he'd once had at the beginning of his Sandhurst training.

"The hospital is a place of healing." She replied, as though wanting to correct and educate the Doctor.

"A shop does some people the world of good." He replied casually. "Not me. Other people."

"The Sisters of Plentitude take a lifelong vow to help, and to mend." Sister Jatt informed them both as they progressed slowly down the length of the wing.

"Lifelong vows, huh?" Peter asked. "Not a job I would have thought they'd be needed for. Mind you, there aren't that many."

The nurse didn't reply, but instead nodded in a manner that neither agreed nor disagreed.

"Didn't you have to take an oath before serving in the military?" The Doctor asked him.

"Yeah, but it's hardly for life when getting shot or blown up is an occupational hazard." Peter replied with a shrug. "And as for nursing, it only leads to retirement after, what, fourty years or so? Hardly a lifetime."

"You know of our profession, sir?" Sister Jatt asked, almost bluntly.

It had almost sounded as though she was accusing him of something, that she was somehow offended. But Peter really didn't care and he was ready with his response.

"My mother and best friend are nurses." He replied, grinning. "Don't get me wrong, though. It's a standup job."

"I wouldn't have thought your kind would be in need of medical care, sir? But, from what I've heard, canines do enjoy a more carefree lifestyle." The feline stated, as cattily as her face. "This way, please."

As Sister Jatt turned and continued to lead them down the hospital wing, Peter snorted at the cheap shot. A cough and stern glare from the Doctor prevented him from retaliating as he was reminded that they were in a hospital, somewhere were manners were more important than instinctual rivalries. So Peter settled on a huff instead.

"Don't mind her anyway, they just don't like the smell of a wolf." The Doctor quickly reassured. "It puts them on edge. Once they get to know you I'm sure they'll love you."

"Well, given that I still stink of a dentist's spit bowl," Peter replied, sniffing under his shirt and quickly recoiling from his own scent. "I'm not loving the way I smell either."

Like the other wings they'd visited, this one had six patient areas on either side, each with their own specific equipment and curtains for privacy, all leading down to a huge floor to ceiling window which gave a magnificent view of the New Hudson river and the city of New New York beyond.

Impressive as it was, however, it was still a hospital ward. For Peter, the real fascination was the incredible array of medical symptoms each of the patients seemed to be suffering from.

One woman appeared to be floating, her supine figure suspended in midair. Her skin, however, was equally shocking. It was bright red. Opposite her, a man as white as his bed sheet was sat propped up on a slim padded bed.

Like nearly all of the patients on the ward, both were heavily wired up to multiple drips of varying watery pale colours.

But the medication didn't seem to be helping everyone.

He was the biggest man Peter had ever seen. Even with the extra large bed - no doubt it was reinforced - his mass was still drooping over the sides.

Pale, clammy and a nasty stony shade of grey, he was moaning and groaning almost as much as his stomach was gurgling in a disagreeing manner. Stood with him, holding his hand, a stern looking woman in a sharp suit was doing her best to sooth him.

The Doctor ambled past, not really looking, but that and Peter's initial glance was enough to raise the hackles of the woman.

"Excuse me!" She hissed from where she was stood. "Members of the public may only gaze upon the Duke of Manhattan with written permission from the Senate of New New York!"

"That's Petrifold Regression, right?" The Doctor asked the man, ignoring her.

"I'm dying, sir. A lifetime of charity and abstinence, and it ends like this." The Duke uttered, almost unable to speak through what appeared to be an increasingly stiffening jaw.

Obviously worried that this statement could be used against her employer, the woman was quick to leap to his defence.

"Any statements made by the Duke of Manhattan may not be made public without official clearance." She warned them, her lips becoming as tight as the bun her hair had been scraped up into, as she momentarily left the Duke to come over to the Doctor, Peter, and Sister Jatt.

"Frau Clovis!" The Duke whimpered, pain suddenly etched his face as his stomach made another unhealthy sound. "I'm so weak." He whispered as Frau returned to his side and took his hand in her own again.

Looking for a moment as though she was going to say something else, the woman instead glared at the nurse accompanying the two men.

"Sister Jatt. A little privacy, please." She requested, making it obvious by her tone that she wanted it immediately.

Having no problem in granting her wish, the Doctor and Peter followed Sister Jatt as she led them away.

"He'll be up and about in no time." The cat nurse assured.

The Doctor was not as optimistic.

"I doubt it." He replied, sounding slightly saddened over the Duke's condition. "Petrifold Regression? He's turning to stone. There won't be a cure for oh, a thousand years? He might be up and about, but only as a statue."

"Have faith in the Sisterhood." Sister Jatt replied, not at all sounding put off by his pessimism. She was, however, beginning to sound as though she would have rather been getting back to her work. "But is there no one here you recognise?" She asked. "It's rather unusual to visit without knowing the patient."

As though on cue, the Doctor saw what, or rather who he'd been looking for.

"No, I think I've found him." He replied, smiling.

Following his gaze, Peter saw that he was looking at what could only be described as huge head in a tank, standing on the left within the patient area closest the the window.

Attending to the Face of Boe was a young nurse, perhaps only just qualified. Though it was hard to judge due to the fur, she had a soft, kind face that was slender and complimented her bright eyes well.

"Novice Hame," Sister Jatt greeted as she brought the Doctor and Peter over. "If I can leave these gentlemen in your care?"

The young nurse nodded, silently allowing Sister Jatt to return to her work.

"Oh, I think our friend got lost." The Doctor asked her, just as she was about to walk away. "Rose Tyler. Could you ask at reception?"

"Certainly, sir." She replied, bowing her head respectfully before leaving.

Now alone with the two visitors, Novice Hame suddenly looked nervous and timid. When she eventually spoke, it was in a quiet and soft tone.

"I'm afraid the Face of Boe is asleep. That's all he tends to do these days." She informed them, as a way of breaking the silence. "Are you friends, or…"

"I met him just the once on Platform One." The Doctor replied, looking concerned. "What's wrong with him?"

Novice Hame hesitated. She hated the rare times she had to deliver bad news to visitors.

"I'm so sorry. I thought you knew." She told the Doctor, almost whispering. "The Face of Boe is dying."

"Of what?" The Doctor asked, sounding genuinely surprised.

"Old age." The nurse replied sadly. "The one thing we can't cure. He's thousands of years old. Some people say millions, although that's impossible."

The Doctor smirked. Impossible. It pretty much summed up his entire life up until to this point.

"Oh, I don't know. I like impossible." He said, before crouching down in front of the tank so that he was eye level with the Face of Boe, hoping that he would recognise him without the leather and cropped black hair. He had a different voice too, so the Doctor wondered how easy it would be to convince him. "I'm here. I look a bit different, but it's me. It's the Doctor." He said quietly to the ancient being so as to not disturb him too much, as he gently rested a hand on the glass of the tank.

Giving a small moan, still asleep. The Face of Boe seemed to move a little closer towards him.


	6. Chapter 6

Every so often, as if sensing when it was needed, the hospital's tannoy would read out a calming statement of reassurance.

"Hope, harmony and health." The soothing female voice announced. "Hope, harmony and health."

Returning with three cups of water, the Doctor handed one to Peter.

"Thanks." He said, unable to resist giving it a quick sniff to check that water was still water this far into the future. Satisfied, he took a tentative sip. "What?" He asked, noticing the Doctor was now staring at him.

"Are you okay?" The Time Lord asked, his tone one of concern.

Peter frowned.

"I'm fine." He replied, his eyes narrowing with suspicion. "Why?"

"It's just you've been very quiet since..." The Doctor trailed off, nodding in the direction of the Face of Boe. "I've been meaning to ask, how are you coping with it all?"

"Doctor, I traveled across space when I was three months old. Then I lived nearly all of my life on an alien world, which included a career dealing with, and occasionally fighting, visiting aliens." His companion replied with a confident air. "A hospital with cats for nurses and big heads for patients isn't going to freak me out."

"Good, that's good." The Doctor replied, nodding.

He was about to turn away, towards Novice Hame and the Face of Boe, when Peter spoke up again.

"It's just... Well, I've..." He began, unable to find the right words.

"What?" The Doctor asked.

Peter's bright grey gaze dimmed slightly as a sad smile emerged.

"Three hours ago I was sat in the only home I've ever know, with the only family I've ever know." He said, before laughing. "Now I'm five billion years into the future and..." He trailed off, shaking his head.

The Doctor was suddenly thrown back in time. How many of his companions had experienced homesickness during their first trip in the TARDIS? The last time, with Rose, it had also been five billion years into the future - the Face of Boe had been there as well.

But the Doctor had found a way to cheer her up, and now, he was determined to do the same with Peter.

"Have you got your mobile on you?" He asked, setting aside the two cups of water he was still holding.

"Yeah, why?" Peter asked, digging the device out of his jeans back pocket. "It won't a make call, I've checked, there's no signal. Unsurprisingly."

"I know. Just give it here a sec."

Hesitating for a moment, Peter handed it over.

He then watched with a mixture of curiosity and worry as the Doctor pulled out the sonic screwdriver and briefly hovered it over the phone, the machine making a slight buzzing sound as its end lit up bright blue.

"What did you do?" Peter asked when his phone was returned to him.

"Universal Roaming. In short, you can call whoever you want no matter where or when you are."

Quickly looking down at the phone's screen, Peter saw a full set of bars where, a moment ago, there had been none.

"Thank you." He said sincerely, looking back up. "Though I'll wait until we're out of here. Don't want to interfere with the instruments or something." He joked. "If they still run with that old myth."

The Doctor smiled back and, picking up the two remaining cups of water, turned towards Novice Hame.

She was sat beside the Face of Boe, quietly tending to him and the various machines he was wired up to whenever it was required.

"That's very kind." She said when the Doctor handed her one of the cups of water. "There's no need."

"You're the one working." The Doctor replied, shrugging.

"There's not much to do, just maintain his smoke." Novice Hame insisted. "And I suppose I'm company. I can hear him singing, sometimes, in my mind. Such ancient songs."

"Are we the only visitors?" Peter asked.

"The rest of Boe-kind became extinct long ago." Novice Hame replied, nodding sadly. "He's the only one left. Legend says that the Face of Boe has watched the universe grow old. There's all sorts of superstitions around him. One story says that just before his death, the Face of Boe will impart his great secret, that he will speak those words only to one like himself."

"What does that mean?" The Doctor asked, his tone becoming slightly more serious.

"It's just a story." The cat nurse dismissed, smiling.

"Tell me the rest."

Novice Hame's smile dropped as she continued.

"It's said he'll talk to a wanderer." She whispered. "To the man without a home. The lonely God."

For a moment nothing was said, and all that could be heard was the Face of Boe's heavy breathing as it echoed within the confines of his tank.

"You know," Peter began, staring at the Doctor. "That kinda sounds like -"

"Rose's phone number." The Doctor said hastily, cutting him off as he pulled out the psychic paper and held it out towards him. "Call her will you, make sure she's okay? The hospital phones are just besides the lifts."

"Sure," Peter replied, taking the leather wallet off him.

For a moment, however, the Doctor saw the wolf in Peter's eyes, studying the man its humanoid half had decided to make friends with.

Then Peter turned and walked away and it was gone.

* * *

><p>As soon as the psychograft had done its job, the trails of energy emitting from it retracted back into the machinery fitted onto the walls and ceiling. Free of its grip, Rose's body collapsed to the floor with a thud, the metal pipe she had been holding clattering loudly on the stone floor.<p>

Running over to the human his mistress was now inhabiting, Chip waited with baited breath to see if all gone to plan.

"Mistress?" He asked with concern when Cassandra stirred.

"Moisturise me." She mumbled.

Though it was coming out of Rose's lips and in her voice, Cassandra had managed to maintain her cool, collected, and rather sassy tone.

As Chip ran over to get the bottle of her moisturiser, she realised that the limbs of her new body were now also hers to control. Gingerly, she lifted up her new hand and was shocked to see that it responded as if it had been the one she'd been born with.

"How bizarre. Arms, fingers..." She noted, before noticing that something was blocking the view of one of her new eyes. She focused in on it and realised what it was. "Hair!" She gasped.

For a moment unstable, Cassandra sprang up onto her feet and raced over to the grimy but still functional mirror stood in the corner of the room. "Let me see! Let me see..." She trailed off, seeing Rose's body in full from her own perspective for the first time. "Oh my God. I'm a chav!" She shrieked in horror. "Look at me. From class to brass!"

Noticing, however, the well curvature she now had - particularly around the chest area - Cassandra unzipped her jacket for a closer inspection. "Although, oh, curves." She said, smirking. "Oh, baby, it's like living inside a bouncy castle!"

"The mistress is beautiful." Chip chirped as he returned with the now unneeded bottle of moisturiser, bouncing up and down like an excited puppy.

The compliment easily enflamed Cassandra's already inflated ego.

"Absolutement!" She agreed gleefully. "Oh, but look…"

The frame she'd been attached to for so long now stood empty and abandoned. Her old brain, kept in a tank at the bottom of the frame, was dead.

"Oh, the brain lead expired." Chip gasped sadly. "My old mistress is gone."

Cassandra was not concerned and merely smirked as she pointed to her new head.

"But safe and sound in here." She reassured her pet.

"But what of the Rose child's mind?"

"Oh, tucked away. I can just about access the surface memory..." Cassandra began, instantly dismissive. Then Rose's memories opened up to her. "Gosh, she's with the Doctor. The taller man... He's the Doctor. The same Doctor with a new face. That hypocrite!"

In spite of herself, Cassandra was amazed with the work he must have had done to look as he did now. The Doctor looked like he had a whole new body! Perhaps she could use the same means to get this chavy body looking more like her own used to when she was fully human? Her old looks were infinitely superior to Rose's any day. "I must get the name of his surgeon. I could do with a little work." She mused, beginning to admire her new behind. "Although nice rear bumper. Hmm."

It was then that Cassandra felt movement coming from her rear end, a buzzing sensation. Then it began to ring. Her rear end was ringing!

Pulling out the small device out of her back pocket - it was Rose's mobile phone - she held it out at arms length as though it might bite her. "Oh, it seems to be ringing. Is it meant to ring?" She asked.

"A primitive communications device." Chip explained.

Fearful that failing to answer it would lead to suspicions of her body's absence, Cassandra very carefully answered the call.

"Rose, is that you?" Asked a voice Cassandra was not familiar with. Then she remembered. A second man was traveling with Rose and the Doctor. What was his name again?

"Peter?" She replied hesitantly.

"Where are you?" He asked, confirming that she'd got it right.

This posed a new problem for Cassandra. Her tone of voice was different to Rose's and anyone who knew the latter would be suspicious if she started speaking differently. Humans just didn't go around changing their accent, not unless they were trying to be funny or trying to lie.

"How does she speak?" She mouthed to Chip.

"Old Earth Cockney." He mouthed back.

Cassandra began running through her mind for something that Rose would say on the phone. In what felt to her like a thousand minutes, she finally remembered something she had seen in a movie once.

"Er, wotcha." She said in the best cockney accent she could muster, relying heavily on the most stereotypical knowledge she had of that archaic dialect. It almost pained her to let such a primitive dialect cross her lips.

"Where've you been?" Peter asked. "Did you get lost or something?"

"I'm on my way, governor." Cassandra replied, maintaining her accent. "I shall proceed up the apples and pears."

Speaking on one of the hospitals large white telephones - they still looked relatively the same even this far into the future - Peter frowned. Apples and pears? Did Londoners still talk like that?

"Okay," he said, unsure. "Anyway, the person who summoned us here, well I say it's a person, I really have no idea. It's a big head in tank called the Face of Boe. The Doctor said you've met him before?"

"Yes, of course I have." Cassandra laughed back, it and her smile completely false. "The big old, Boat race..."

Hearing the sound of raucous, jubilant laugher that seemed to echo right across the ward, Peter turned away from the phone just as the plop of a cork being freed from its bottle for the first time was heard.

"I'd better go. See you in a minute" He said down the phone, hanging it up a moment later as he went off to investigate.

Returning to the hospital wing and meeting the Doctor halfway, Peter was shocked to see that the Duke of Manhattan now looked the picture of health and was celebrating with Frau Clovis with a bottle of champaign. It was in stark contrast to him of barely an hour ago, when he been at death's door as his body slowly began turning into into stone.

"Didn't think I was going to make it." The Duke was saying as they approached. He beamed when he saw them both. "It's those man again! They're my good luck charms. Come in. Don't be shy."

"Any friendship expressed by the Duke of Manhattan does not constitute a form of legal contract." Frau Clovis quickly reminded them.

"Winch me up." The Duke asked her as he continued to laugh merrily, his laughter increasing as he was elevated up into a sitting position as Frau repositioned the bed via a small remote control. "Up!" He giggled. "Look at me. No sign of infection."

Sparing no expense during his stay, the Duke had hired a butler to attend upon him. Dressed in a crisp black livery - tailcoats and brass buttons included - the man was carrying a silver tray with four fine crystal champagne glasses balanced expertly upon it, each filled to brim with the expensive pale gold bubbly liquid.

"Champagne, gentlemen?" He asked, politely offering the Doctor and Peter the drinks on the tray.

"No, thanks." The Doctor absentmindedly declined as Peter shook his head. "You had Petrifold Regression, right?"

Peter picked up on the disbelief in the Time Lord's tone.

He hadn't known the Doctor very long - not even four full days had passed since they'd first met - but he already knew that it was a rarity to see the expression now plastered across his face.

But this was something to be disbelieved.

There had been no misdiagnosing the Duke's condition - even Sister Jatt had correctly identified that the man had been slowly turning to stone. The Doctor had said, with absolute certainty, that the nearest cure was at least a millennia away, and a thousand years was a long time. So how had the Duke been cured?

The patient himself didn't seem to have given it much thought.

"'That' being the operative word." He smirked. "Past tense. Completely cured."

"But that's impossible." The Doctor whispered.

One of the cat nurses had joined them at the Duke's bedside.

Perhaps a few years older than Sister Jatt, her fur was a slightly lighter shade of brown whilst her face was more angulated - more resembling that of a siamese feline rather than a podgy-faced moggy.

"Always so nice to see patients on the mend." She stated.

"How on Earth did you cure him?" The Doctor asked her, his mouth ever so slightly agape.

"How on New Earth, you might say." The cat nurse replied, smiling at her own joke.

The Doctor was not amused and he nodded in the direction of the bag of clear coloured solution being fed into the Duke's arm via a drip.

"What's in that solution?"

"A simple remedy." She told him, just as simply.

"Then tell me what it is."

"I'm sorry, patient confidentiality." She replied, not sounding sorry at all. Then she smiled again. "Primitive species would accuse us of magic, but it's merely the tender application of science."

"What sort of science can stop someone turning into stone?" Peter laughed, unconvinced.

The feline smiled at him as one would to a small child who was asking questions they were too young to fully understand the answer to. When she replied, she spoke over Peter and instead continued to address the Doctor.

"As I said, primitive species would not understand our methods."

Once again, the insult had been poorly hidden behind just enough minimal politeness so that a formal complaint wouldn't hold any ground. Not that Peter had ever cared much for formalities. This was the second time he'd been made to feel inferior because of what he was, and he was damned if he was going to let it slide this time.

"Right, what do I know? Us wolves don't even need medicine to heal." He said casually, shrugging. "Though are you sure the cannula is big enough to utilise the size of the patients veins? Looks a little thin to me, you might end up losing some of your 'simple remedy' in the bloodstream if enough isn't pumped in through the drip."

For the briefest of moments, Peter saw the cat's cool exterior falter, and she actually turned to look at the Duke as though she was second guessing the treatment he'd received. It was back a split second later, however, as was her professional judgement.

Regardless, Peter had still claimed a victory.

"I don't believe we've met." She said evenly. "My name is Matron Casp."

"Peter Argent," Peter told her. "This is the Doctor."

Matron Casp's eyes narrowed ever so slightly.

"I think you'll find that we're the doctors here." She stated.

Any further exchanges were halted by the arrival of Sister Jatt.

"Matron Casp, you're needed in Intensive Care." She quietly informed her superior, who nodded.

"If you would excuse me." She informed the two visitors stood before her.

The Doctor politely nodded and smiled as Matron Casp and Sister Jatt walked away, whilst Peter did his best not to glare as he watched the two cat nurses head off of the hospital wing to wherever the intensive care ward was located.

"Cannula?"

Peter turned and saw that the Time Lord looked both amused and impressed, his eyebrow arched in his direction in an enquiring manner.

"It's like I said, my mother and Emma are both nurses." He replied, shrugging. "You pick stuff up."

"Okay." The Doctor replied, though he didn't look or sound convinced.

"What?" Peter asked, frowning.

"Nothing."

Finally, the Time Lord's pressuring gaze was too much to bear.

"I watched five minutes of Casualty, just the once." Peter admitted.

The Doctor said nothing, but his smile gave away his satisfaction. Turning on his heel, he walked off to further explore the ward.


	7. Chapter 7

Sister Jatt had been a nurse for many years now, and she was experienced and wise enough not to discuss the intensive care ward further whilst out in the open.

Matron Casp also didn't need to tell her that the presence of a wolf - who's hearing she knew to be far superior to that of a human's - made it even more imperative that sensitive information was not discussed until they could be sure they were far enough away.

She internally shuddered at the thought of the boy. It was unprofessional of her, but his kind and hers had been at war for as long as they'd existed. It was just in their instincts, it was in their very nature to despise and distrust one another.

"It's happened again." Sister Jatt said, only after they'd stepped from the main hospital into intensive care. "One of the patients is conscious."

"Oh, we can't have that." Matron Casp tutted, taking in the familiar and unpleasant sights and smells of the ward.

No matter how many times she came here, she could never get over how very different it was.

Gone were the all white minimalistic design and clean, open air wings full of patients in need of healing. Intensive care was dark, grimy and industrial in its design.

Narrow, grated metal walkways connected the vast network of containment cells, each of them over three meters in height and diameter. They were each sealed by a heavy steel and glass bulkhead door, their interior lights casting the entire ward in an eerie green glow.

"It was having a perfectly normal blood wash, and all of a sudden it started crying." Sister Jatt explained as she led Matron Casp down the correct corridor. "It's this one."

Pointing to the specified door, she then proceeded to open it by means of inputting the correct command into the small control panel besides the door.

There was a soft, regulatory beeping sound as the door unlocked and automatically swung open.

Immediately the arm of the poor creature inside reached out towards the two nurses, pitifully and pathetically trying to make contact with them.

"Please, help me." He begged, his voice croaking and barely above a whisper.

Sister Jatt and Matron Casp were not concerned by this, however. What was more of a fascination to them was the fact that the man was even awake enough to be able to reach out to them.

"Look at its eyes. So alive." Sister Jatt commented, her head cocked to the side with interest.

"Positively sparkling." Matron Casp agreed, sounding surprised.

"Please, where am I?" The man asked.

"And speech!" The senior nurse gasped. "How can it even have a vocabulary?"

"Sister Corvin's written a thesis on the migration of sentience." Sister Jatt replied. "She calls it 'The Echo of Life'. It's well worth a read."

"Help me." The man begged them again

Matron Casp had always hated these creatures. She tolerated the sight of them only because of what uses they had brought to modern medicine.

"I've seen enough, thank you." She muttered, already walking away. Closing the door on the man, Sister Jatt was quick in catching up with her as she continued to bestow her judgement. "If this happens again, we might have to review our brain stem policy."

"And what should we do with the patient?" Sister Jatt asked.

"Standard procedure. Incinerate."

Reaching the end of the corridor, Sister Jatt paused at a fuse box to pull down the large lever attached to it. She waited as the electricity poured into the man's cell - his screams momentarily rising above the din of the crackling charge - before, once satisfied he'd been dealt with, pulled it back up and followed after Matron Casp.

* * *

><p>Sometimes Chip could be a right bore.<p>

Ever since Cassandra had announced her intention to go and seek out the Doctor under the pretence of being Rose, her pet had done nothing but fuss and worry over concerns for his mistress' safety.

"This Doctor man is dangerous." He told her for the fourth time in as many minutes.

Cassandra resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Chip found anything beyond the walls of the basement dangerous. She doubted he'd do anything at all if she wasn't there to command him.

"Dangerous and clever. I might need a mind like his." She stated, discarding her jacket and unbuttoning the top most fastenings of her shirt. Even though this body wasn't desirable enough to be permanent, she could still have some fun. "And that other man, Peter, very handsome for a common dog. He'll be strong too. I could use some muscle." She continued, ruffling up her hair into a more seductive and volumed style. "The Sisterhood is up to something. Remember that Old Earth saying, never trust a nun? Never trust a nurse. And never trust a cat. Perfume?"

Chip had been listening so intently, hanging on Cassandra's every word, that it took him a moment to catch up with her. When he did, and saw that his mistress was holding her hand out towards him, he quickly handed over the requested vial. It was tiny in size, but Cassandra knew that it was powerful enough that only a single squirt would be needed.

Tucking it securely down her décolletage, she wasted no time in heading off to find her body's travelling companions.

During the brief conversation she'd had with Peter, he'd let slip where Cassandra could find him and the Doctor, and it took her less than ten minutes from leaving the basement to stepping out of the lift and onto Ward 26.

She'd been warned by Chip about the disinfectant, that it was sudden and unpleasant. In truth, Cassandra had found it wonderful. It was like being sprayed by a gigantic moisturiser! She'd instructed her pet to do what he did best, keep close, slink around and not be seen.

Rounding a corner, Cassandra spotted her two handsomely shaped targets.

She felt adrenaline run through her veins and it excited and scared her. She made a last effort to brush her hair with her hands and then stuck out her chest as far as it would go before striding over towards them.

The Doctor had spent his time travelling between the patients of Ward 26, making observations as he diagnosed each condition and the 'simple remedies' which had been used to cure each individual.

"Fascinating, except for the Face of Boe, not a single person they haven't been able to treat." He muttered.

"You sound disappointed?" Peter questioned, his eyebrow raising.

He'd followed the Doctor around every patient, quietly watching and not understanding half the words coming out of the Time Lord's mouth. He was grateful therefore, when he saw that Rose had finally caught up with them. At least he wouldn't be alone in trying to navigate the Doctor's maverick methods.

"There you are." The Doctor greeted warmly, spotting her. "Now come and look at this patient." Quickly he guided her over to the patient he'd just been examining. It was the floating woman Peter had spotted earlier, the one who's skin was as red as a tomato.

"Marconi's Disease. Should take years to recover. Two days. I've never seen anything like it. They've invented a cell washing cascade. It's amazing. Their medical science is way advanced." He noted, his amazement undisguised. "And this one."

Cassandra barely had time to look at the patient she'd been presented with before the Doctor pulled her to another bed containing a man who was white as the sheets covering his bed. "Pallidome Pancrosis. Kills you in ten minutes, and he's fine." The Doctor told her, pausing to turn and give the man a cheery wave.

"They've also apparently found a way to stop that man over there from turning into stone." Peter said, nodding in the direction of the Duke of Manhattan.

"I need to find a terminal." The Doctor stated. "I've got to see how they do this. Because if they've got the best medicine in the world, then why is it such a secret?"

"I can't Adam and Eve it." Cassandra muttered.

Instantly she regretted saying anything at all. It had come out in a too heavy cockney accent and she could see from the Doctor and Peter's reactions that this wasn't how Rose talked.

"W-what's with the voice?" The Doctor asked, frowning.

"Yeah, you were doing it on the phone." Peter added. "Everything okay?"

"Oh, fine. I'm just larking about." She replied, waving her hand dismissively. "New Earth, new me."

The Doctor's frown disappeared almost at once, quickly turning into a smile.

"Well, I can talk. New New Doctor." He chuckled.

Cassandra smiled back. It was obvious that all she had to do with this body to keep him convinced was to play the pretty blond and smile and bat her eyelids at him.

Peter, however, was going to be a problem.

Able to access the most basic information from Rose's memories, Cassandra knew that he hadn't been around long and that he was a soldier. Momentarily tempted by the thought of a man in uniform, she knew that he'd be far more suspicious of his new friend's sudden change in behaviour.

His face confirmed this, his bold grey eyes were narrowed and focused solely on her whilst his brow was creased in the shape of a frown. Somehow Cassandra had to get him to look away.

Her lips twisted into a smile as she turned back to the Doctor.

"Mmm, aren't you just." She purred.

Before the Doctor could respond, Cassandra roughly grabbed him by his head and kissing him, long and hard. She could feel the Doctor's shock, but also his response, albeit a less passionate one. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Peter avert his eyes and focus on anything that wasn't her and the Doctor.

She inwardly smiled. Men! They were so predictable.

Finally, she released the Doctor from her grip and stood there for a moment, as breathless as he was.

"Terminal's this way." She breathed, pointing out the direction of travel before walking off that way.

The Doctor stood there dumbfounded, his hair even more of a mess than usual from the ruffling it had just endured. When his brain caught up with him, he smiled.

"Yep, still got it." He said to himself, following after her as he attempted to pat down his hair.

Left where he'd been standing, Peter didn't quite know how to react. Sure, he'd suspected that there was something going on between the Doctor and Rose. He just hadn't expected it to be so... obvious.

"Well," he said, more to the white skinned man than himself. "That wasn't awkward at all."

The man blinked, though Peter doubted it was in response. With a sigh, he turned and followed after the couple, hoping it wasn't all going to be so domestic for the remainder of his time with them.

* * *

><p>The nearest terminal was mounted on a blank wall not far from the lifts. The small rectangular screen looked rather lonely tucked away as it was.<p>

Slipping on his glasses, the Doctor wasted no time in searching through the hospital's detailed layout.

"Nope, nothing odd. Surgery, post-op, nano-dentistry." He muttered. "No sign of a shop. They should have a shop."

There had to be something, anything, that would tell him as to what was the great secret behind the miraculous cures that the cat nuns used to heal their patients.

Rose too seemed very keen to figure out the mystery too.

She was leaning in, quite close to him, and staring at the terminal with great interest and apparent knowledge of a computer system billions of years ahead of her time.

"No, it's missing something else." She insisted, sounding quite certain. "When I was downstairs, those nurse cat nuns were talking about Intensive Care. Where is it?"

"You're right. Well done." The Doctor complimented.

Cassandra smirked. For an intelligent man the Doctor could be very oblivious to the obvious.

"ICU is normally in a more remote part of the building." Peter said. He was standing just behind the pair, peering over Rose's shoulder at the screen. "But every hospital should have one. So if they do, why hide a whole department?" He laughed. "Of course, they are cats."

"Peter." The Doctor sternly reminded him.

"I'm going to maintain it," he replied, shrugging. "You can't trust them."

"It's got to be there somewhere." Cassandra interrupted, bringing both men back on task. "Search the sub-frame."

This surprised the Doctor. Since when did Rose know about sub-frames? Had he once taught her about them? He doubted it, even more so when it came to buildings five billion years into her future.

Still, he obliged and once again dug out the sonic screwdriver.

"What if the sub-frame's locked?" He asked her casually, beginning to scan the terminal.

"Try the installation protocol." She replied, making it sound as though it were the obvious thing to do.

"Yeah. Of course." He replied quietly, focusing for now on hacking his way into the system. "Sorry. Hold on."

Using the sonic screwdriver on the interface, the Doctor must have tripped the security protocols, as a clunking sound echoed from somewhere near the bottom of the wall.

From the same spot, the entire section slid down into the floor.

Like a secret door opening, a hidden corridor was revealed to them. Dark, with exposed piping running down its sides, it didn't look as though it was going to lead to anywhere pleasant.

Smiling, Cassandra was quick to step over the threshold and begin to walk down its length.

"Intensive care." The Doctor commented as he and Peter followed her. "Certainly looks intensive."

Watching from afar, Novice Hame quietly observed as the trio rounded the first immediate corner of the corridor and disappeared from sight.


	8. Chapter 8

The scale of the intensive care ward was quite astounding, all the more so considering it wasn't meant to exist.

As Rose led him and Peter down a few sets of down-beaten metal staircases, the Doctor didn't know what to think. It certainly didn't look like somewhere sick people went to get better.

The whole place contained nothing but cells, each sealed with a heavy steel and glass door. They were taller than he was, wider too, with a green glow emitting from somewhere inside each of them.

"And behind door number one?" Cassandra half laughed so as to break the tense silence.

It didn't work. The Doctor and Peter had the same serious expression on their faces. It was one of grimness, that they were bracing themselves as though they were about to discover something horrid within this place.

Peter shuddered at his surroundings as they rounded a corner leading down a narrow corridor.

Maybe it was part of being a wolf, but he had always been able to sense what had transpired somewhere before any proof of said purpose emerged. Though it was obvious the ward wasn't used as a place of healing, it oozed pain and fear and death.

He could smell it in its very walls. He could even hear it.

Thump thump thump. The unmistakable sound of a racing, petrified heartbeat reached Peter's ears

But he could tell that it wasn't his own heart making the noise - no matter how hard it was beating against his chest - and neither was it Rose's or either of the Doctor's.

No, this heart belonged to the occupant of the cell on his left.

Peter stopped, his breath hitching as he came to the conclusion that something was alive in the cell and... Then he realised with a crushing sense of dread that all the cells were identical. Therefore...

"Doctor." He said quietly. The Doctor stopped and looked back at him, his eyes widening as he saw the paled expression on his companion's face. "You know how I can hear heartbeats?"

The Time Lord nodded.

"Yes?"

Peter drew in a large breath and steeled himself.

"We're not alone." He said, indicating one of the cells.

The Doctor didn't even need a fraction of a second to work it out.

"All of them?" He asked, his tone darkening.

"Yes."

"Positive?"

"One hundred percent." Peter told him with absolute certainty, stepping aside as the Doctor came over to the cell he'd pointed to.

Taking out the sonic screwdriver, he hovered the tip over the heavy steel door's lock and was rewarded with a loud clunk as the cell was unlocked.

Stepping back as the door slowly swung open, they couldn't see what was inside for a moment as a large cloud of vapour poured out of its confined space and into the ward.

When it cleared, they saw with horror what was inside.

The man was standing only with the support of the frame fixed into the wall of the cell. His skin was waxy and covered in the most horrendous boils and rashes and other signs of illness and infections. But the worst thing was, though his gaze was distant and unfocused, he was very much conscious and alive.

"That's disgusting." Cassandra muttered. She was revolted by the sight and covered her mouth with her hand. "What's wrong with him?"

The Doctor's eyes didn't leave the man.

"I'm sorry." He told him with the deepest regret. "I'm so sorry."

There was nothing he could do to help him and he quickly shut the door of his cell, moving onto the one next to it. He quickly found it too contained a heavily infected person, this time it was a young woman.

Disgusted, Cassandra resisted the urged to step away. The Doctor and Peter hadn't and it seemed that neither would Rose in this situation. Therefore, she had to stay where she was.

"What disease is that?" She asked.

"All of them." The Doctor replied grimly. "Every single disease in the galaxy. They've been infected with everything."

"And what's stopping every single disease in the galaxy from infecting us?" Peter asked. "Infecting everyone in the hospital?"

"The air's sterile." The Doctor told him as he shut the cell door. "Just don't touch them."

Further along the corridor, the wall on one side fell away to reveal a view of perhaps a dozen floors of more cells. There were hundreds of them. Thousands of them.

Peter was simultaneously impressed and sickened by the scale of the operation. However, it was starting to provide at least some answers to what was going on in the hospital.

"Okay, now this is starting to make sense." He whispered, leaning against the guardrail in front of him.

Cassandra wasn't sure if she'd heard him properly.

"This makes sense to you?" She asked, her eyebrow raising.

"The cat nurses, they have a cure for everything. Now we know how." He theorised, looking to the Doctor as if to check he'd understood the situation correctly. "This isn't an intensive care ward, it's a laboratory."

"A human farm." The Doctor agreed, his tone marred with disgust. "These people, they were born sick. They're meant to be sick. They exist to be sick. Lab rats."

"Why don't they just die?" Cassandra asked.

"Plague carriers." He explained, leading them back the way they'd come. He paused as he looked into another cell, gazing through the glass at the suffering and pitiful being inside.

"It's for the greater cause."

Novice Hame's voice was as gentle and as soft as a purring kitten.

Walking toward the three intruders slowly and calmly, she wasn't angry that they had trespassed and discovered the hospital's big secret. In fact, she was all set and ready to explain it to them as though it were a common practice.

The Doctor and Peter were looking at her as though she was an abomination.

"And there's the justification. I was wondering what it was going to be." Peter laughed, darkly. "Fascinating really, five billon years into the future and it stems from the same set of words. The greater good. It's a scientific breakthrough. We're saving lives. A miracle solution to all of our problems."

He was slowly advancing towards her now, as was the Doctor. Cassandra - curious to where this was going to go - lingered behind them.

"Novice Hame," the Doctor said when he reached her, his tone dangerously quiet. "When you took your vows, did you agree to this?"

"The Sisterhood has sworn to help." Novice Hame calmly replied.

This only intensified the Doctor's anger.

"What, by killing?" He growled.

"But they're not real people." The feline explained, determined for them to see things as she and her fellow Sisters did. "They're specially grown. They have no proper existence."

"What's the turnover, hmm?" The Doctor asked her, his voice steadily rising until he was shouting. "Thousand a day? Thousand the next? Thousand the next? How many thousands? For how many years? How many!"

"Mankind needed us." She replied, for the first time sounding desperate. "They came to this planet with so many illnesses. We couldn't cope. We did try. We tried everything. We tried using clone-meat and bio-cattle, but the results were too slow, so the Sisterhood grew its own flesh. That's all they are. Flesh."

"These people are alive. They have heartbeats." Peter told her. "And don't pretend - because your nose is as good as mine - that you cannot smell the fear and the terror pouring off of them."

Novice Hame flinched at the momentary glimpse she got of the wolf's furious and glowing yellow eyes.

"But think of those humans out there, healthy and happy, because of us." She somewhat bravely declared.

"If they live because of this, then life is worthless." The Doctor declared.

The Doctor's overbearing nature was starting to try Novice Hame's patience. Who was he to question the good the Sisterhood was doing in the name of medicine? He was just a man, flawed and unable to understand.

"But who are you to decide that?" She challenged.

The Doctor might have laughed if he wasn't so furious.

"I'm the Doctor." He told her. "And if you don't like it, if you want to take it to a higher authority, then there isn't one. It stops with me."

For a moment nothing was said, something Cassandra took immediate advantage of.

"Just to confirm." She asked Novice Hame, peeping around Peter's shoulders. "None of the humans in the city actually know about this?"

"We thought it best not -" The feline began.

"Hold on." The Doctor interrupted. "I can understand the bodies. I can understand your vows. One thing I can't understand. What have you done to Rose?"

Stood behind him and Peter, Cassandra had been occupying herself as she cast her eye over her nails - as soon as possible she'd have to get them properly manicured. Sensing the danger, she froze like an animal caught in headlights and her eyes shot up and bore into the back of the Doctor's skull.

The question had caught Novice Hame off guard. Her eyes widened and her brow creased as she looked from the Doctor to Rose and then back again.

"I don't know what you mean." She replied, shaking her head.

"And I'm being very very calm. You want to be aware of that. Very very calm." The Doctor continued, regardless. "And the only reason I'm being so very very calm is that the brain is a delicate thing. Whatever you've done to Rose's head, I want it reversed."

"We haven't done anything." Novice Hame insisted.

"Then something in your hospital has." Peter told her.

However much he wanted the cat nurses to be responsible for the change in Rose's behaviour, Novice Hame was telling the truth. Her heart was racing, but that was because of the Doctor's rising temperament. Had she lied there would have been a tiny, almost insignificant jump in the rhythm of her pulse.

Cassandra knew she had to speak up, convince both men that they were mistaken.

"I'm perfectly fine." She assured, smiling at the Doctor as he glanced over his shoulder at her. He didn't smile back, his stony expression instead turning back to Novice Hame.

"These people are dying, and Rose would care." He declared.

Cassandra groaned and rolled her eyes. Really? That had been her mistake? Well, now that she had been rumbled it was time to ditch her two companions. She had all the information she needed for her plans, all she had to do now was decide how best to use it.

"Oh, all right, clever clogs." She said, taking a step closer to the Doctor as he and Peter turned around to face her. "Lady-killers." She breathed as she grabbed hold of his tie, pulling it out from under the suit jacket and twiddling it around her fingers.

Cassandra was so close that she could have kissed the Doctor again. She could have kissed either one of them, if she wanted to.

"What's happened to you?" Peter asked.

The Sycorax incident hadn't been the first time he'd dealt with mind alteration and it was clear from the moment he'd spoken to Rose on the phone that something hadn't been right. But it was only once the Doctor had confirmed his own suspicions that he had felt he had enough ground to say anything.

"I knew something was going on in this hospital," she replied casually, leaving the Doctor's tie alone and turning her attention back to them both. "But I needed this body and you two handsome men to find it out."

"Who are you?" The Doctor asked.

Cassandra had been looking forward to this and took a moment to revel in the feeling of knowing something the Doctor didn't. Then she leaned in close so as to whisper the answer into his ear.

"The last human." She told him, slowly and huskily.

As expected the Doctor reeled away, looking shocked and incredulous.

"Cassandra?" He asked.

Peter frowned and looked at him.

"You know her?"

Taking advantage of the men's distraction, Cassandra pulled out the tiny vile of perfume she had concealed down her décolletage.

"Wake up and smell the perfume." She purred.

Two successive squirts in the vicinities of the Doctor and Peter's noses brought both men crashing down to the floor with a bang. Matron Casp jumped back, shocked at what she'd just witnessed.

"You've hurt them." She cried as she knelt down besides the unconscious men. "I don't understand. I'll have to fetch Matron."

"You do that, because I want to see her." Cassandra ordered, her tone now full of glee. "Now, run along. Sound the alarm!"

Jumping to her feet, the horrified Novice Hame did as instructed and fled the ward as fast as her nun styled habit would allow her. This left Cassandra alone with the Doctor and Peter at her feet. Why not have a little fun?

The walls of the ward were covered with exposed pipes and wiring. Pulling one at random, Cassandra momentarily ducked as sparks and steam burst outwards. Then she head a loud, blaring alarm and smiled.

* * *

><p>All the Doctor could see was green when he came to.<p>

He must have hit his head at some point because there was a painful throbbing sensation hammering away at the back of his skull. Slowly, groggily, his senses properly returned to him.

He was inside one of the cells. He could tell by the tall and narrow shape and by the heavy steel and glass door keeping him locked inside.

"Let me out!" He shouted. "Let me out!"

Rose's familiar shape loomed into view, slightly distorted by the frosted glass. But even though it was his companion's face, the Doctor could see Cassandra in the smile she gave him.

"Aren't you lucky there was a spare?" She told him. "Standing room only."

Right now, the Doctor didn't care about his own predicament.

"You've stolen Rose's body." He growled.

"Over the years, I've thought of a thousand ways to kill you, Doctor." Cassandra sneered back. "And now, that's exactly what I've got. One thousand diseases. They pump the patients with a top-up every ten minutes." She consulted her watch. "You've got about three minutes left. Enjoy."

"What about Peter? What have you done with him?"

Suddenly the Doctor felt guilty. He'd been selfish in deliberately detouring Peter away from going home, and now both of his companions were in very real danger. Because of him.

Cassandra smirked and glanced over her shoulder.

Chip had arrived right on time and equipped to secure both men and, though Cassandra doubted the Doctor could see, she had ordered her pet to handcuff Peter to one of the low lying exposed pipes that ran down the wall opposite the cells.

Lying on his back, Peter's head was resting in the crook of his elevated arms. Still under the affects of her perfume, Cassandra thought he looked very sweet. Hardly a wolf, he was a more of a puppy at the present moment.

"Don't worry he's safe. I wouldn't dream of wasting a body like his." She reassured, turning back to the Doctor. "He's just a bit tied up at the moment. I'll send him your regards."

She started to turn away and the Doctor saw what was almost certainly his last chance to reason with her.

"Just let Rose go, Cassandra." He pleaded.

"I will. As soon as I've found someone younger, and less common, then I'll junk her with the waste." She told him. "Now hushaby. It's showtime."

As she stepped away Cassandra heard a groan and sharp intake of breath from somewhere in the vicinity of her feet. She looked down at Peter. He was waking up, though not fast enough to yet realise what was occurring around him.

Cassandra smirked. Quite literately, whilst the cats were away she was going to play.

Peter was initially aware of two things. His head hurt, and he was on his back. They were never signs of good things to come when he eventually became able to intake what had happened whilst he'd been out of action.

His immediate reaction was to move one hand to the sore part of his head and use the other to push himself up, but he quickly realised that he could do neither. The sensation of cool, curved metal pinching at both of his wrists told Peter his exact predicament before he even opened his eyes.

When he did look up, he saw that a hefty pair of handcuffs were responsible for keeping him were he was.

"Fantastic." He muttered, rolling his eyes and allowing his head to drop back down to floor level.

The sudden warm weight of a person sitting on him made Peter look back up again, and he saw Rose's face leering down towards his own.

"Speaking of less common." She whispered as she effectively straddled him. "Hello handsome."

Peter ignored her advances. He knew it wasn't Rose he was looking at. He didn't know how or why that was the case but he could take advance of the situation and find out.

Cool, calm, collected wasn't his usual approach. He knew that and so did most of the people who knew him. But that didn't mean he wasn't capable of taking a step back and making a informed observation. In fact, when it suited him, he could be downright cunning. Then again, he was a wolf. Perhaps it was in his nature.

"Okay, you said something about being the last human. So not a natural host species." He theorised. "You used some sort of biological transfer of personalities or memories from one body to another. Rose is still alive and in there because you can access knowledge and information only she'd know."

"Not just a pretty face are you?" Cassandra asked, her eyebrow arching.

"No, and this isn't my first time in cuffs either, and I doubt it'll be my last."

"Now now," she told him. "You'll have me blushing if you carry on."

"I can do more that that." Peter continued. "Because you see, the whole experience has taught me one fundamental thing about human manufacturing."

Cassandra straightened.

"Oh, and what's that?" She asked.

Peter smirked.

"It's pretty damn weak." He whispered.

Lifting his arms up so that his wrists were elevated off of the pipe they'd been resting on, he pulled them apart hard and fast. The chain wouldn't be able to withstand the pressure and...

Pain shot through both limbs like wildfire and for a moment Peter thought he'd broken them both. But, more importantly, the chain hadn't broken. It was strong, impossibly so for such a small amount of metal.

Cassandra didn't look surprised and leaned down towards him again.

"Reinforced." She whispered. "I don't know what primitive sets you've have the pleasure of using before, but these -" She gave them a good tug and smirked when Peter winced. "They can hold much more that you back."

"Anything we can do to help?"

Sister Jatt was accompanied by Matron Casp. Their expressions were ones of curiosity as they slowly walked down the corridor towards Cassandra.

Both felines had been about to enter the ward for themselves when Novice Hame had come running out of the concealed doorway, a look of panic spread across her young face. Quickly she had explained the source of her fright.

"Matron, it's those men, and the girl." She told Matron Casp, pointing back at the ward.

"We've heard the alarm." She reassured. "Now get back to work. Tend to your patients."

Novice Hame had hesitated for a moment but bent to the will of her superior and scuttled off towards Ward 26. The two senior nurses then continued on their way.

They were now stood in front of Cassandra - who was still sitting on Peter - waiting for an explanation as to their summoning.

Cassandra didn't hesitate in letting them know. After all, she had an execution to watch without interruption and a fortune to make. Getting off of Peter, she cooly and calmly approached them.

"Straight to the point, whiskers. I want money." She said plainly.

"The Sisterhood is a charity." Matron Casp explained just as plainly. "We don't give money. We only accept."

Cassandra smirked. She had done her research and she had the juiciest of leverages. Negotiations at this point were a mere formality.

"The humans across the water pay you a fortune, and that's exactly what I need." She reasoned. "A one-off payment, that's all I want. Oh, and perhaps a yacht. In return for which, I shall tell the city nothing of your institutional murder. Is that a deal?"

Matron Casp shook her head.

"I'm afraid not." She answered.

"I'd really advise you to think about this." Cassandra insisted.

"Oh, there's no need. I have to decline."

Cassandra wanted to laugh. Was the cat oblivious to what she knew? Did she know how easy it would be to spread the word of what was occurring here over to New New York and beyond?

"I'll tell them, and you've no way of stopping me." She threatened. "You're not exactly nuns with guns. You're not even armed."

"Who needs arms when we have claws?" Matron Casp sneered and lifted up her gloved hand. She hissed menacingly as inch long, lethal looking claws ripped through the fingertips of the material.

Cassandra paled slightly and took a step back. Peter, however, laughed.

"You call them claws? They're toothpicks." He chuckled. Then an idea occurred to him. "Oh, claws!" Bring out his own set of razored claws - they were at least double the width of Matron Casp's - he attempted to pick the lock of the handcuffs. "Come on. Come on. Damn it!" He huffed when it became apparent it wasn't going to work.

"Reinforced." Cassandra reminded him, her voice now slightly shaking.

Maybe she should let him loose? He'd want to protect Rose's body at the very least. Wouldn't he?

"I know that!" Peter snapped back, lying back down again. But a moment later, he was sitting back up again. "Cassandra?" He asked.

"What? Can't you see I'm a little busy here?" She hissed, indicating the obvious danger.

"Just a quick question." He said. "I know the handcuffs are reinforced. But is the pipe they're attached to?"

Cassandra didn't respond, but the way her body clenched and the manner in which her face fell even more told him that it wasn't.

Taking hold of the thin pipe with both hands, there was a sound much like gunshot as Peter easily ripped it away from the rest of the plumbing and off of the wall. His hands were still handcuffed but at least now he could stand up and move around as he pleased. "Now, that was a bit of oversight." He said, allowing the pipe to drop to the ground where it landed with a loud clang.

"Are you too going to threaten us?" Sister Jatt enquired. "Like your companion?"

"Well, here's where it gets a bit complicated." Peter replied, indicting Cassandra. "She's actually two people at the moment. The one who's speaking and the one who's body it is."

"Indeed?" Matron Casp asked. "How so?"

"I could explain but I don't think a primitive species like yourselves would understand." He replied, pausing to enjoy the look of insult on both cats faces. "All you need to know is it'll be sorted the minute I find the Doctor and we get out of here."

"And then what will you do?"

Peter picked up on the threatening undertone and matched it.

"Then I'm coming back and shutting down this sick operation you're running, and if you're lucky I won't bite through your spinal cords on my way past."

"You're vastly outnumbered here, dog." Sister Jatt hissed. "You won't make it out of this hospital alive."

"Well of course I'm not with him, you'll remember." Cassandra said suddenly, already backing away. She turned to Chip - who'd remained lurking in the shadows. "Chip? Plan B."

Her pet sprang into action and pulled down the lever to his immediate left. The result immediately became apparent as all of the cell doors along the stretch of corridor they were on swung open. Overhead an alarm started to blare as, slowly, like zombies out of a cheap horror film, the people trapped within them began to wonder out onto the ward.

The moment his door opened, the Doctor sprang out.

"What've you done?" He growled at Cassandra.

"Gave the system a shot of adrenaline, just to wake them up." She replied, grinning like a madwoman. "See you!" Before the Doctor could grab hold of her, she turned on her heel and fled down the corridor with Chip.

Peter was hot on Cassandra's heels and the Doctor too would have been quick to follow. He paused, however, to look back to see what had become of Matron Casp and Sister Jatt.

Unfortunately most of the opened cells were closer to the two felines than to the Doctor and quickly, they were seen by the escaped test subjects as the people to advance towards. They had an escape route, but the look of terror on their faces seemed to have spread far enough so as to impair their moment. Only very slowly were they backing away.

"Don't touch them! Whatever you do, don't touch!" The Doctor shouted over to them.

There was nothing he could do for them, even if he wanted to, and he quickly turned and gave chase after Cassandra.


End file.
